


Who You Think You Are

by Tahlruil



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Actual Mutual Pining, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Humor, Identity Porn, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Secret Identity, assumed one-sided pining, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: In a world where no one knows the identity of Iron Man, Tony Stark is the best thing since sliced bread, at least in the opinion of one Steve Rogers. He doesn't like to let anyone know that - especially not Tony - but one day it sort of slips out. Luckily it's only to his best friend, and Shellhead won't tell anyone. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Shades of Tony

**Author's Note:**

> So funny story - I had to ditch my original NaNo idea. I like the concept, but there's no way I can get it to where I want it by the end of the month; I committed to the idea too late, so don't have enough planning done. Sad day. So! Instead I'm gonna do fanfic stuff. XD I figure I'll take each story as far as it wants to go, then move on to another. All of them will be Stony, just so there's at least a unifying theme. I am behiiiind, even if I got two chapters done for this first one tonight, so hopefully I can kick myself into gear and post every day to catch up.
> 
> Anyway, this is basically gonna be MCU identity porn, because that's some good trope right there. I was gonna do one of the other canon universes where Iron Man is _actually_ a secret identity, but I still don't know them very well. Working on it, but not there yet!
> 
> I've been toying with this idea for a while - saw a prompt somewhere on Tumblr, can't remember where - and so I ran with it. Hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> Please comment? I love comments. <3 They give me happy tears and make me squeal and bounce in my seat and everything. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

“Glad you thought to call me in. Oh wait! You didn’t. Good thing you purposefully tried to keep me away from your brand-new hidey-hole, Nicky, or I wouldn’t be here to save your collective asses. Some of which are stellar, by the way.”

Steve knew he should be irritated by one Tony Stark – Clint sure looked ready to shoot him – but when the handsome man looked to him and winked, will. A blush rose to his cheeks and he had to turn his head away, heart thumping loudly in his chest. If he looked over, he knew Tony would be wearing his trademark smirk, and seeing it might prompt him to do something reckless.

Something like push Tony against the wall and shove his tongue down his throat.

To keep himself under control, Steve focused his attention on Director Fury instead. He was very obviously furious at Stark – it wasn’t clear if it was because of the quips or because he hadn’t wanted Tony anywhere _near_ this place and now needed the genius to help save it. “Just fix it, Stark, then get out of my facility. You leave any bugs in my system or my office and I’ll haul you back here and put you up on charge. I will be your judge, jury, and executioner. If you don’t want to disappear, stick to tracking down the motherfuckers who got this virus in my system.” The growl rising in Steve’s throat would give him away, and he knew it. So he battled it back, feeling his expression shift to a scowl as he did.

“I am wounded, Fury. I can’t believe you think I’d leave anything in your network that you could actually find. It would be adorable if I wasn’t so hurt.” Tony wasn’t looking at any of them now, seemingly absorbed in the holographic display before him. That meant it was safe for Steve to watch him work, which was always a pleasure. Except for that slight furrow in Tony’s brow, the one that Steve wanted to smooth away with his thumb every time it appeared. To hide the way he had to curl his hand into a fist to prevent himself from doing just that, Steve shifted his shield as if it had slipped from its optimal position and needed to be righted ASAP.

“Got ants in your pants, Cap?” Steve’s gaze snapped back to the amused-sounding Tony, surprise racing through him. Competing with that feeling was a sense of dread – he’d thought he was safe, that Tony wasn’t looking, wasn’t paying him any attention. Had Tony noticed him watching? No. Nonono. Not like this! Tony wouldn’t want him, no way. He’d turn it into a joke to try and ease the tension, and Steve couldn’t bear the thought. “Just sit tight, okay? What I’m doing is so utterly beyond you, so you must be bored. If you want, after I finish I can try to explain it to you. I mean, I’ll have to dumb it down a lot, since you can’t even figure out the Stark phone I gave you.”

It wasn’t fair, Steve thought as he fought another blush. It wasn’t fair that Tony always found teasing him so easy while he could hardly string two words together in front of him sometimes. It wasn’t fair that he wore fancy, expensive suits with an effortless grace – even with a rumpled jacket, an absolutely obnoxious tie that was askew and the top three buttons of his shirt popped open, he still looked good. Really good. Amazing, really, and it wasn’t fair of him to look that way. It wasn’t fair that his artfully messy hair made Steve want to comb his fingers through the strands, and it wasn’t fair to expose his collarbone like that and not let Steve explore it with his tongue. It just wasn’t **fair**.

“Enough with the chatter.” Can you fix this or not, Mr. Stark?” Even before he finished talking, Steve was cringing internally. Tony _hated_ being called that, and his tone had been much too harsh. Why did he always do that? Why did everything always come out so… so wrong?

As his suddenly slow mind fumbled for a way to fix this, he saw _something_ flash through Tony’s eyes, but it was gone before he could interpret it. And before he could say something, anything, to backpedal or apologize, Tony grabbed his atrocious, orange-tinted sunglasses and slipped them on. Even though Tony could wear them and manage to make them look attractive, Steve hated them. Tony’s mouth lied all the time, but occasionally Steve could see hints of the truth in his eyes – now that avenue was cut off completely.

“Get the peanut gallery out of here, Fury. I don’t need any distractions while I work. Especially not science experiments approaching their centennial celebration.” Dammit, playful Tony had retreated, leaving the Tony that could rip you apart with words in his place. Steve mostly didn’t mind this Tony, when he wasn’t the one in the line of fire anyway. It was fun, sexy even, when the billionaire eviscerated those he took exception to with a verbal sword. He especially liked watching Tony lay into anyone (but especially Fury) who spoke poorly of any Avenger or tried to butt into their business. When he was defending them, Tony was magnificent.

Being the _reason_ for the shift in mood? Not fun or sexy – it was terrible, in fact. Heart-clenchingly, stomach-droppingly awful.

“Tony, I-”

“Shush Cap. I’m busy with – oh. Huh. Look at that.” Steve saw a look of consternation n Tony’s face, his fingers stilling and looking wrong that way. Not that Steve thought a lot about how Tony’s hands looked, or tried over and over and over to get them _just right_ on paper. Nor had he gone through an entire sketchbook in the process. No, definitely not… it had been one and a half books, and he _still_ didn’t have those hands right.)

“Dammit Stark! Don’t just stand there. What does ‘huh’ mean?”

“Well, Fury, it means I just found something more Cap’s speed, now that he’s all thawed out and everything. The birdbrain’ll probably have trouble keeping up still.”

“Fuck you, Stark. I am a master archer. If there’s baddies out there, I-”

“Anything Cap can do, you can do better.” Tony even sung the line, forcing Steve to hide a chuckle and his smile behind one hand. “Got the memo, thanks. Did you get the one about how nobody says ‘baddies’ anymore? Because they don’t.”

“Even I knew that.” Steve added helpfully, encouraging the return of playful Tony. Sure Clint shot him a betrayed look, but Tony sent a grin his way – a more than acceptable trade-off. Steve gave an answering smile, and for a moment, Tony paused – staring at him from behind those awful glasses maybe, before he turned back to the display.

“See? Steve knows.” Tony’s use of his actual name had his stupid heart fluttering in his chest. “You have no excuse for not knowing too, birdbrain.”

“GODDAMMIT!” Fury’s shout was underscored by the sound of both fists slamming against the table. “Could you all be serious for one second. Stark!” The name was practically barked, and it would have brought most people to heel. Tony only yawned, looking almost bored. “Do we have intruders? If so, could you get off your ass and tell us where they are so we can take the motherfuckers out?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Nicky. There’s only a handful of them, and this attack on your system is pathetic too. I think this might be a practice run, or maybe just a nice ‘happy opening’ party for your facility.” Turning away from the screens again, Tony looked to Steve and Clint. “Looks like maybe thirty of ‘em. Don’t know who they are, don’t care. Only I’m allowed to look through SHIELD’s dirty laundry. They’re in the south quadrant.” As he moved one hand in an absent wave, part of the holograph broke off – it was a map, showing Steve exactly where the enemy was.

“Got it. Hawkeye and I will handle them. You monitor the situation from here, and let us know if any more of them show up, or if whatever is in the system gets nastier.” As he spoke, Steve felt himself settle in the role of Captain America. Even Tony responded to that shift, though his response was almost always paired with a snort and an eye roll. “No chance of Iron Man making an appearance?”

“No. Like I said earlier, he’s taking care of something for me. We thought I’d be safe here with all you superhero-types. All you get today is Tony Stark – sorry to disappoint.”

“You aren’t disappointing anyone, Tony.” Damn, even to himself Steve sounded far too earnest and way too invested in this conversation, but he didn’t know how to stop himself. “I’m glad you’re here to help us – we need someone figuring out all that computer stuff more’n we need another fighter. And you’re the best, so I’m really glad you’re here, Tony.” For a second there was silence, thick and sudden enough that Steve looked around the small group, worried something new and exciting was going wrong. Hawkeye – not Clint, not until the enemy was defeated – was goggling at him like he’d gone insane. Fury was glaring at him extra hard, and even Tony looked just a little slack jawed.

Reviewing his words, Steve realized that he might have tipped his hand – he usually didn’t praise or even thank Tony too much, afraid his crush would make itself known. He’d practically just spouted an ode to the genius, and holy mother of Christ, why couldn’t he ever just be normal around Tony? Feeling the tips of his ears and his cheeks grow warm, he cleared his throat and tried hard not to squirm, looking anywhere but at Tony. “Well it’s true,” he muttered defiantly, one step away from crossing his arms over his chest in a sulky pose.

“Huh.” Tony was using the same tone of voice as when the intruders were discovered, and that was probably not a good sign.

“If it helps, Stark, I still think you’re an ass.” Smothering the urge to strangle Hawkeye, Steve turned a cutting glare his way, pointing to the door.

“Get a move on, soldier. We’ve wasted enough time.”

“Jeez. Fine. But he _is_ an ass. Not even really an Avenger. We just let him hang around because he pays for all the things we blow up. And ‘cause he makes cool weapons. It’s not like he… Iron M… can’t even fight…” as Hawkeye left the room, his cross grumbling faded, but Steve was pretty sure the damage was already done. Tony’s face had frozen into his best press smile, and his shoulders were tight with tension and nearly up to his ears. Damn Hawkeye!

“He’s wrong, Tony.” That softly spoken statement was all Steve could allow himself, because the map showed the intruders had gotten past the first line of defense. “I’m counting on you to keep us updated. Use the coms to let me know if any more come in, or if there are any other surprises. I’m sure you’ll have the computer… network… stuff clear before we even engage in combat. Fury.”

Sure, Steve knew a lot more about modern tech than he usually let on… but he liked the way his fumbling made Tony smile. With a nod to the director, he left the room to Fury and the snarky, gorgeous genius.


	2. Iron Man's Belief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Hoping to get three and four up later today as I desperately try to get caught up on my word count. They'll be up by Sunday at the latest!
> 
> Comments plz? Love you all for reading! <3

The infiltrators had been part of AIM, and woefully unprepared for the Avengers – even if only Captain America and Hawkeye had been on scene. Tony had to be right, and it had to have been an exploratory attack, or a taunt. There was no way it had been an actual, serious assault. It had only been a matter of minutes before they were subdued, but it hadn’t been an entirely painless fight.

With the crowding in the hall and his focus not quite all there, Steve had gotten a little distracted and forgotten a simple fact. His shield wasn’t the only thing that could ricochet; bullets did that just as well. The error had earned him a metal-filled hole in the meat of his left shoulder, but the wound itself wasn’t too bad. It would have been nothing at all, except it happened early in the fight and didn’t go clean through his body. By the time the fight was over, his super soldier body had healed over the entry wound, trapping the metal inside his flesh.

It had taken about twenty minutes before the green and near-hysterical young man treating him managed to fish it out. Steve was all healed up by the time he reached the common floor of Avengers (Stark) Tower, but he would swear he could steal feel the ache.

That was what had him sprawled on the luxurious, large couch, eyes closed as he breathed through the feeling. He’d been there since his arrival, the top of his uniform stripped of and laying on the floor beside his shield. He knew he should move, should go change out of his white, sweat-stained t-shirt and the rest of his uniform, or at least take off his boots, but it just didn’t seem worth it. Especially since he was alone, and there was no one to complain about or tease him for his laziness.

Natasha was off doing something – he didn’t ask, she didn’t tell, and he really didn’t even _want_ to know – and Thor had taken Bruce with him to New Mexico to visit Jane. Tony never came down to the common floor unless he had gifts to bestow, Iron Man was off running errands, and Clint… well. Clint was on a punishment run. Or he might have reached the squat thrusts by then.

Steve was still rubbing his shoulder when his blissful solitude was interrupted. He’d know the thunk of those boots anywhere, and the sound of liquid being sucked through a straw only confirmed the wearer’s identity. Steve smiled reflexively, but didn’t open his eyes. “Your ability to be stealthy could sure use some work, Shellhead.”

“Not built for stealth, Winghead. My area of expertise is making things go ‘boom’.” An obnoxiously loud slurp punctuated the end of his words, which had Steve fighting an even wider smile.

“Yeah? Well, Mr. Boom, you should stop making so much noise. I’m injured here. I need a quiet and soothing environment to recover.”

“Uh-huh. Did you forget you’re a super soldier? Mr. Stark said you didn’t dodge one of the bullets AIM shot at you, but you should be all better by now.”

“They had to dig it out. It took a while.” Shrugging, Steve stopped rubbing his shoulder, eyes still closed. “I know I’m all healed up, but it still feels like it’s there.”

“Mr. Stark said you were apologizing to the idiot digging it out.” It was hard to tell from Iron Man’s voice – the suit modulated it, making him sound mechanical – but Steve thought his friend sounded fondly exasperated. “He spent half an hour-”

“Twenty-three minutes.”

“Digging around in your flesh, and _you_ were the one apologizing?” Steve felt himself start to blush and cursed his fair skin – he hated that people could read his embarrassment so easily.

“He was just a kid, Shellhead, and he was almost in tears. It wasn’t his fault I healed up faster than he was willing to cut me open at first.”

“Yeah, well he needs to get his act together or get out. Doctoring superheroes is not for the faint of heart.”

“It was his first time. He’ll grow into it, I’m sure.”

“Uh-huh. So to help him grow, you’ll put up with scalpels cutting you open for forty-five minutes – ”

“Twenty-three.”

“And phantom pains that last for hours. Got it. Good for you, helping the kid out, being nice to him. My boss said the whole procedure was ‘absolute bullshit’ and a ‘crime against the whole of our great nation’.”

“Yeah. He said that second thing a couple-a times.” Steve had rolled his eyes every time, even as he’d felt warmth curling in his heart. Tony hadn’t vanished when the fighting was over like he usually did; instead he’d parked himself in a seat near Steve and stayed through the whole ordeal. Having the genius there, even if he spent most of his time either snarking at the young doctor or staring at his phone, it had been so very, very nice to have him there. To know he _wanted_ to be there was even better.

“He also said he was working on something.” Suddenly, Steve felt his legs being shoved unceremoniously off the couch. He finally opened his eyes to glare balefully at his best friend as he settled on the opposite end of the couch from him. When he did, he saw that the armor looked scorched in several places, and there was a long scratch that cut through the bright red paint of the chest plate, going a couple inches deep. His heart tightened at the reminder that Iron Man – his Shellhead – had been out there without any backup. Without _him_.

Mentioning his worry was out of the question, so instead he snorted and draped his legs over Iron Man’s lap instead of sitting up. “Tony’s always working on something. I’m pretty sure he designs things in his sleep.”

“Probably.” Iron Man agreed, shrugging his shoulders with a soft whir of servos. “But this time it’s for you. I didn’t understand most of what he was babbling about before he kicked me out of the ‘shop, but it was something to do with what happened today. I guess he’s working on something to get any future bullets out of you easier. Maybe?”

There was that warm feeling spreading through his chest again. Sure, Tony didn’t spend much time with them, and maybe he didn’t always say the nicest things, but… he cared. He cared, and he showed it where it mattered most.

“He… he doesn’t have to do that. He shouldn’t waste his time on me.”

“You aren’t a waste of time, Winghead.” Iron Man’s gauntleted hand rested briefly on his shin, the weight of it comforting, and then he was shoving at Steve’s legs again. “You are currently wasting space though. Get off me and sit up, you drama queen.”

“Fuck off.” Steve answered playfully, grinning at Iron Man’s exaggerated gasp – like he didn’t know Steve swore like a sailor. Still, he did swing his feet to the floor and sat up with a groan. “There. Better?”

“Much.” They fell into a companionable silence, the only sound coming from Iron Man slurping at his drink. Just as Steve was thinking of turning on the TV to catch some non-Avengers news, his friend spoke.

“So why’s Hawkeye doing laps broken up by push-ups, squat thrusts and other fun things? You only make people do those drills when they’ve been naughty.”

“How do you know he’s running drills? Maybe he just wants to stay sharp.”

“Uh-huh. No. Nobody does those unless you make them. Anyway, I stopped by the gym first – thought maybe you’d be there. You weren’t, but he was – heard him cursing your name and the day you were born. I decided it was best to clear out.”

“Ah. He’s mad then.”

“Sounds like.”

“Well maybe he’ll think next time before he shoots off at the mouth.” Maybe some people would have been surprised by the cold censure in his voice, but Steve _felt_ cold when he thought about what Clint had said to Tony. And God, the look on Tony’s face after… it was like the ice was creeping over him again.

“Woah. He’s always shooting off at the mouth, Winghead. What was so different this time?”

Steve was quiet for a long time, thinking about his answer. It was true, Clint was almost always saying _something_ annoying, but usually he let it go. The other members of the team had their own ways of exacting revenge, after all – it was better not to get involved in that mess. He’d never felt the need to defend Tony before either; usually the billionaire gave as good as he got. But this time… no. This time he’d gone too far.

“He said something to Tony. It was uncalled for. We aren’t… _I’m_ not using him, not for his money or his toys. He’s an Avenger, even if he isn’t out there in the thick of the fighting. He’s one of us, Shellhead, through and through. Clint had no right to insinuate otherwise, or suggest that Tony’s a… a breathing wallet that, once emptied, we’ll throw away. It was over the line. Tony… he doesn’t have to do what he does, you know? He’s always looking for ways to keep us safe, gives us a place where we can just _be_ , without having to worry about living up to our super-selves. He lets me borrow my best friend pretty much whenever, even if that means he’s out a bodyguard for a day or six. Whenever SHIELD gets suck – which is _all the damn time_ \- he’s right there, figuring it out. He’s part of the team, same as me’n you. Fuck Clint for making him feel like less than that.”

Silence.

Silence and Iron Man staring at him from behind that expressionless faceplate.

“So… Clint’s running terrible, sweat-and-pain-inducing drills because he said something mean to my boss? It’s… you did it for Mr. Stark?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. … really?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you hated him, Winghead, bu-”

“I don’t hate him!” Steve interrupted, aghast, his eyes going wide as something _squeezed_ in his chest. “Sure we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but he’s a swell fella.” And God, Steve wished Tony was _his_ fella, but he tried so hard to keep that to himself. “You really thought I hated him? Does… does everyone think I hate him?” A thought occurred, one that left him with no air to breathe and had his throat feeling tight. “Does _Tony_ think I hate him?”

“Uh… yeah. I mean. I think he does.”

“ **Shit** ,” he snarled, pushing up off the couch with some force. Enough to shove it, Iron Man occupant and all, back almost three feet, but that wasn’t important. What as important was that Tony thought he _hated_ him. “Shit. Shit fuck shit shit. Fuck.” God, he was such an idiot. Of course Tony would think that. Everything always came out so _wrong_ and so _harsh_ , and he almost never took Tony’s side. He had to fix this. Tony wouldn’t ever want him, not the way _Steve_ wanted _him_ , but they could at least be friends. He had to _fix this_. Steve didn’t really realize he was pacing until Iron Man was in front of him, stopping him with one metal hand pressing on his chest.

“Woah, hey! Easy there big guy.” There was concern in that modulated voice, and Steve took a deep breath to try and get himself under control. “What’s gotten in to you? Why does this matter so much?”

“I don’t… I don’t hate him Shellhead. I… he’s…” Alright. SO Iron Man was Tony’s bodyguard, but they didn’t seem especially close. Surely he would keep Steve’s secret; they were best friends, after all. “He’s… Tony is…” Deep breath, Stevie. You can do this! “I sort of think he’s… amazing.” Steve mumbled, looking down at the floor, sure he was blushing furiously. He could only imagine the picture he made, over six-feet of muscle scuffing his toes against the floor like a kid caught being naughty.

“I… excuse me. What?” The disbelief in Iron Man’s voice made Steve frown at him. “You think Tony Stark is what now?”

“I think he’s amazing.” Steve answered, proud of how sure he was able to sound this time. Now if only he could stop blushing! “He’s smart – a literal genius – and every time I think he can’t improve my armor or the team’s weapons any more he just… blows my mind.” Steve knew he was probably about to overshare, but he’d been holding his feelings in for _years_. Now they all wanted out. “I know everyone bitches about how arrogant and mean he can be, but God, the mouth on him. Have you ever seen him knock someone down twenty pegs with just a couple-a words? It’s a thing of beauty. And he only gets really mean when someone attacks him first – the rest of the time he’s only playing. And he’s good looking. _Very_ good looking. Even when he’s wearing something that should look awful, he looks… amazing. Its… he’s so attractive it’s distracting. I spend half my time with him trying too hard not to do something insane. Today I wanted to-”

“Woah! Okay no. No details.” Iron Man interrupted, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “You think he’s cute. I get it.”

“Yes. No. Yes, but not just cute. He’s…” Steve paused and blushed, running his fingers through his hair. “He’s sexy. And he cares. He pretends he doesn’t, but he does. And-”

“Okay!” Iron Man cut in again, olding both hands up – the effect was somewhat ruined by the cup of green… something in his left hand. “You think he’s great. So you, uh. Don’t hate him. You… like him?” Again his friend sounded completely shocked, like such a thing was completely unthinkable, and Steve found himself scowling at his friend.

“Yes. I like him. I’m stuck on him, to be honest. If I thought he’d say yes, I’d… well. I’d ration him. No wait, that’s not how you say it. I’d ask him to go steady – I think that’s it.”

“You’d ask him to go steady? _You_ would ask _him_? _**Him**_?” It was practically a squawk, and Steve’s protective instincts surged.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Just… Winghead… Cap… Steve. Don’t you listen when I talk about him? When other people talk about him?”

“He’s your employer. Of course you aren’t always happy with him. I bitch about Fury, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect him, or that I won’t take his orders, or that he’s not a good man. As for other people… what the hell do most of them know anyway?” Without really meaning to, Steve clenched his hands into fists and slid into a more aggressive stance, ready to fight. “So again – what _exactly_ are you getting at?”

“He’s…” Iron Man sounded completely babbled, like he’d just discovered the sky was green or something. “Steve, he’s a mess. Probably an alcoholic and definitely an ass. He’s a rich bastard, Steve, who can’t even take care of himself. Last week he was up for four days straight and was only eating the snacks he keeps in the ‘shop. I had to get Ms. Potts to drag him out of there. The week before that, he got so drunk that he couldn’t even, uh, ‘entertain’ the ladies he took to his room after a party. Ladies, Steve – more than one. He doesn’t do going steady, not with ladies or men; he’s a one night stand guy. That’s not even mentioning all the people all the people that are _dead_ because of him. They used to call him the Merchant of Death, Steve. You could do so much better than him. He… he doesn’t deserve you.”

Anger had been building inside of Steve ever since the beginning of that little speech; at the last sentence, his rage went cold. That’s how it was, since the ice – negative emotions didn’t run hot any more, not for him. When he got really angry, he would feel himself start to go numb, and then he would lose control. At that moment, he just hoped he didn’t freeze completely, because he owed Iron Man a sock to the jaw and wouldn’t hesitate to deliver if he went totally cold. Even with the armor between his fist and Iron Man’s face, Steve was pretty sure he could make an impression.

“Tony Stark,” he began, jaw tight and his fests clenching even tighter at his sides. “Is a good man. I know about that ‘Merchant of Death’ stuff. Everyone thinks I’m an idiot – including you, apparently – but I know enough to use the internet. You think I didn’t look into the man housing and feeding me and my team? SHIELD’s file on him was pathetic and wrong, and the papes are wrong about him too, even the electronic ones. I looked it all up, read it, and then let Tony show me who he is. I trust what I’ve seen more than anything else. Sure he made mistakes, but he’s trying to fix them-”

“And usually failing miserably!”

“Shut up, Iron Man.” Steve was almost surprised at the venom in his tone; Iron Man definitely was, and even fell back a step – almost like Steve’d actually hit him. “The point is that he’s trying. That’s all any of us can do, and not everyone even manages that much. He’s taking the hard road because it’s the right thing to do. He could have ignored it all, you know. He could have gone on making millions – _billions_ – selling weapons and congratulate himself for keeping his hands technically clean. I met folks like that back in the war. They didn’t pull any triggers, so they didn’t feel responsible. Not Tony. Tony saw that he was part of the problem, and he did something about it. How much did he lose when he walked away from weapon production? Sure business is good now, but when it happened…” Steve shook his head, still glaring fiercely at his friend – maybe _former_ friend. “He deserves _more_ than me, some washed up vet who can barely navigate the modern world. He deserves a hell of a lot more.”

“Uh, no. He doesn’t.” Iron Man tried again, sounding almost desperate. “You’re… you’re so _good_ Steve. You’re-”

“Captain America, I know.” Steve couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into his voice at the title.

“No. You’re Steve Rogers. And Tony Stark doesn’t deserve Steve Rogers.” Iron Man lifted his empty hand and reached toward Steve in a gesture he aborted, metal fingers clutching into a tight fist. “He doesn’t deserve _you_ Steve. You should get out more, meet better people. You could do so much better. Anyone would be-”

“Stop! Just… stop.” Steve held up a hand, then turned away. He let the cold rage go, because he didn’t want to do this – he didn’t want to fight his friend. With the anger gone, he just felt tired… and his shoulder still ached with remembered pain. “I thought you were better than this, Iron Man. Hell, he’s your employer. You work with him, keep him safe – I thought that was because you could see past all the bullshit. I guess I was wrong.” He started to rub his shoulder, leaving his uniform top on the floor as he headed for the elevator – though he did scoop up his shield. It was time to leave, before he did something he’d regret later. “Guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Steve didn’t even listen to the reply Iron Man was trying to make; it didn’t matter. He’d shown his true colors, and Steve just… needed some space. Once he was inside the elevator, he didn’t even glance back at his friend, just softly asked JARVIS to take him to his floor.

It was going to be a long, long night.


	3. Breakfast Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three! Yay! Closing the gap between what I need my word count to be and where I'm at.
> 
> Thanks so very much for reading!
> 
> Comment please? <33

A knock on his door the next morning pulled Steve out of his latest drawing – one not of Tony or another teammate for once, but the new skyscape of his beloved Brooklyn. He barely had time to look up and blink before the door swung open and a genius entered his room. A genius with eyes that were too bright – he’d probably been up all night tinkering. A genius who looked deliciously rumpled in ratty jeans and a t-shirt, oil smeared across one cheek and his hair sticking up in wild spikes.

“Cap. Steve. Cap.” Tony was practically vibrating with barely contained energy as he strolled toward Steve. “I knew you’d be up. You get up too early. Learn to sleep in. Anyway. I have something to show you.”

Bemused – he didn’t think Tony had _ever_ been to his floor before – Steve stood, stretching as he did. “Hey Tony,” he greeted, trying not to smile too big. “Something to show me? What is it?” He’d had a couple of dreams that started out sort of like this, but there was no way he was that lucky. Seeing Tony, talking to him, Steve couldn’t help but think of his disagreement with Iron Man the night before. Smile fading, he reached up to rub his left shoulder, sighing softly.

“That!” Tony announced loudly, pointing. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about!”

“I thought you had something to show me,” Steve countered, lips twitching as he fought another smile.

“Details! Details are for boring people Cap. Steve. Cap. Don’t be boring. Look at the big picture with me, okay? Think big. Anyway! That whole thing with the bullet last night? Unacceptable. First off, how dare you get shot? No. No no no. No getting shot, Spangles. I don’t like it when you’re shot, even if the bullet hit the wall first. And these guys were small fish. Little, tiny fish. Detail fish. Stop with the detail fish and don’t get shot again. Okay?”

“Okay Tony.” Steve agreed easily, letting himself smile. God, he was adorable – Steve wanted to kiss him, then tuck him into bed for some much needed sleep. “No more detail fish.”

“Good. Now. Just in case of big picture fish, I have come up with a backup plan! Because we can’t have people poking at you forever because you got shot by a big fish.” Tony had something in his hands, but Steve couldn’t make it out, not with him gesturing dramatically and wildly the way he was. “No one is spending an hour mucking about in your shoulder ever again, Cap. Steve. Cap.”

“It was twenty-three minutes, not an hour. And I’m a little hurt that you seem so sure I’ll get shot again. I’m the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, you know.” That stupid title _always_ made Tony laugh, and it didn’t fail him this time either. And as Tony laughed, Steve was able to drop a hand to his shoulder and guide the genius to his couch. Tony sat, and Steve carefully took… whatever it was into his own hands.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Tony mumbled, watching Steve turn the object over in his fingers. It _looked_ sort of like a pen, only it was thicker, with quite a bit more weight to it. “But it’ll keep what happened last night from happening again. Ever. Also, you’re an Avenger. We get shot at. A lot. One’s gotta land sometimes, Spangles. Just make sure a detail fish doesn’t getcha.”

“Detail fish bad. Got it. How’s this thing work?”

“I…” Tony’s brow furrowed, and Steve couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“Did you forget, or are you just working on dumbing it down for me?”

“What? Neither! Of course I didn’t forget? Hellllooooo? Genius here, remember? And… you’re not dumb. I…” Tony paused, which made Steve raise a brow in surprise. This visit was a little strange, really, and Tony seemed kind of off. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the genius look unsure of himself, and Tony looked almost… vulnerable. “I hope you don’t think I think that. Just… I don’t know how to explain it without getting pretty deep into theories and specialized knowledge. When I say I’m dumbing stuff down, I just… I’m just trying to figure out how to explain without breaking your brain. My brain’s already broke, that’s why I understand it all, you see. But Fury would kill me if I broke the brain of a National Treasure.”

Steve felt his ears turn pink as he ducked his head, embarrassment crawling over his skin. “I’m not a… you know. I’m just -”

“A skinny kid from Brooklyn.” Tony’s eyes were sparkling as he said the words along with Steve, and holy hell Steve wanted to kiss him.

“Yeah. So you can break my brain if you gotta to explain something. For this though… just the basics. What’s it do?”

“Hmmmm…” Tony rubbed his chin with one hand, and Steve was sure he was coming up with the most absurd way to deliver the truth. “Okay. This end!” So declaring, Tony grabbed the small apparatus, indicating one end (they both looked kinda the same to Steve). “Tiny, tin robots. Tinier even than detail fish. Very important though. This end has a retractable scalpel blade that lets the little guys in. As it cuts, the tiny robots work to keep the cut open. No instant healing, no protracted digging, no phantom pain that lasts all night. Booyah.”

“And then what… the robots-”

“Tiny, tiny robots.”

“Yes Tony. The tiny, tiny robots. They just… hang out inside me?” Doubtful, but playing a little dumb meant Tony got to be dramatic in his reveal of the opposite end.

“Nope! That’s what this is for!” Turning the thing around, he flicked one of the small switches Steve hadn’t dared touch; out popped a needle, like on a syringe. “This gets jabbed in near the initial cut, and it delivers a mixture that’s harmless to you but kills off the robots.”

“The tiny, tiny ones.”

“Exactly! Now you’re getting it. So yeah. Don’t get shot, because I don’t like you getting shot, but… if it happens, one of these will be around to help make it all better.”

As Steve went over it all in his head, it sounded… well. It sounded sort of like a miracle. And Tony’d done it for him, probably not getting any sleep, and… and… “You shouldn’t have done this, Tony.”

All the excitement, the mad genius, that had been glowing on Tony’s face and in his eyes died. Died a quick and painful death, leaving his face a blank mask – that was the only reason Steve realized how that must have sounded to him.

“Tony, I-”

“No. It’s fine. You’re right.” The words were stilted, jerking almost as much as Tony himself did as he roughly pushed himself to his feet. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

Shit! How did this keep _happening_?

Out of sheer desperation – knowing Tony would go out that door and never come back – Steve reached out and grabbed hold of Tony. He did it as gently as possible, wrapping his fingers around the man’s wrist, needing him to stop for just a second so he could fix this.

“Wait! Tony…” Trailing off, he swallowed hard when Tony yanked out of his grip, but the genius had stopped, so he just went for it – because here went everything. Tony had reached out, coming to his room like this, and if Steve didn’t fix it, he had no doubt Tony would shut him out for good. “I didn’t mean it like… just… let me try again, okay? Just… it always comes out wrong.”

He paused to make sure Tony wasn’t going to just leave; the man responded by turning to look at him and arching a single brow. The rest of his face was carefully devoid of any emotion, even the press smile locked away behind countless walls, and Steve found himself sort of wanting to cry. After licking his lips, Steve tried again.

“Tony, it’s amazing. I can’t even begin to think of things like this. In one night, Tony. You saw a problem – one I didn’t even think was a problem – that had no solution. So you just… made one. You fixed it. In one night, you made a solution that has tiny, tiny robots. It’s… it’s amazing.” He repeated firmly, holding the man’s gaze with his own. “But it’s so amazing, so new, that it makes me think you were probably up all night making it. Then I have to wonder if you ate anything. I don’t… need an answer to those questions,” he added when Tony opened his mouth. “I just worry when you push yourself so hard, especially on my account. You have more important things to do than worry about me. I’m grateful, but… you didn’t sleep. Or eat probably.”

“You were in pain.” Tony answered after a moment, frowning thoughtfully at Steve like he held the missing variables in an especially complicated equation Tony wanted to solve.

“You didn’t sleep or eat.”

“You were in _pain_.”

“Tony.”

“Steve.”

“I don’t like the idea of you not taking care of yourself on my account.”

“And I don’t like the idea of you being in fucking pain, so we’re at an impasse.” Tony’s jaw was jutted out at a stubborn angle, and there was a defiant look in his eyes. He was magnificent when he was digging his heels in, and it was… sort of wonderful that Tony was so invested in making sure that he was safe and healthy. Pushing wouldn’t help – a tactical retreat was in order.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. … I think we just created an echo chamber. But… okay? That’s it? You’re done arguing with me?”

“Yup. Now let me make you breakfast and then you should take a nap, if you have time.”

“… what?”

“You made that thing to keep me from being in pain, right? Because you don’t like it?”

“Yes?”

“Okay. So now I get to feed you and put you to bed, since I don’t like you being exhausted and hungry.”

“I make you robots,”

“Tiny, tiny ones.”

“So tiny. And you’re going to repay me with pancakes?”

“Or waffles. And a nap. Don’t forget the nap.”

“Huh.”

“Okay?”

“… okay.” Steve was nearly giddy with victory – he got to make Tony breakfast! Tony had made him something amazing, something to help keep him safe, and the genius was allowing him to put food in his belly in return. Something inside of him was nearly purring at the thought, at the way they were taking care of each other.

“Okay! Good! Good. Um… okay. Do you want pancakes or waffles? Or something else? I could make omelets or French toast, or… well, I’m pretty well stocked here. So whatever floats your boat, really. JARVIS can walk me through anything I might not know how to cook.”

“Wait. My AI gives you _cooking_ tips? My highly advanced, one-of-a-kind, insanely competent AI spends part of his processing power reading you recipe cards?”

Steve felt the tips of his ears burning, but he refused to look away from Tony’s amused, gently mocking smile. “Yes?”

“Sir, you did ask me to serve Captain Rogers to the best of my ability. If that means assisting in his culinary endeavors, I am happy to do so. Frankly, sir, it is far preferable to many of the things I have had to do in your service. The 90’s in particular were a rough patch.”

“Shut your traitor mouth.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“Thank you for all your help, JARVIS. I really do appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, Captain. And may I say how refreshing it is to interact with someone who is in possession of such impeccable manners.”

“Oh my god. No. Both of you stop. I want coffee, Steve. I can’t handle this without coffee.”

“No coffee. You can have orange juice.”

“But I want coffee.”

“After your nap.”

“Steeeeeeeeve. I need coffee.”

“And you can have some later. For now, juice, water or milk.”

“Ugh. Fine, mother. Make me waffles. And bacon.”

“Waffles and bacon it is.” Steve agreed with a smile, clapping Tony on the shoulder before steering him towards his kitchen. Next time – if there was one – he was going to be brave enough to sling his arm across both of Tony’s shoulders and leave it there. For now, though, it was enough to have Tony walking beside him, both of them heading in the same direction.


	4. Captain Dad and Iron Mom On the Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am so far behiiiiind. v.v;
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love comments. <3 I'll love you if you leave me some.
> 
> I has a Tumblr and it is [here](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/). I loves talking to people, even if I'm too shy to be the one to reach out. XD

Non-Fury mandated team training sessions happened far more often than SHIELD enforced sessions – they’d mostly fallen into them in the first month at Avengers Tower, and they’d just never died out. Tony had even taken an entire floor and completely revamped it, adding in obstacles and bots and two ‘command centers’ on opposite sides of the room so they could engage in stupid ‘training’ games that were more often about having fun. Capture the flag was a favorite, and that was what Steve had decided on doing that afternoon if there were enough Avengers to make two teams. There were, sort of, but he didn’t find himself glad of that fact.

Not when Iron Man, who almost never came to those sessions not demanded by Fury, showed up. If it had been just him, Steve could have canceled, or if Hawkeye was the only one besides them, he could have done the same without feeling guilty. Widow was still out in the field, but Thor and Bruce were back, and it was really a shame. Sure Bruce wasn’t going to participate, but four people were enough to make two teams, and it _sucked_. Steve wasn’t ready to deal with his best friend just yet. Not after the day before when he’d gotten to feed Tony breakfast and bring him lunch; not after spending enough time with his crush to reaffirm what he’d already known. Tony Stark was a swell fella, and damn Iron Man for not being able to see it.

He still could have canceled, of course, but… there would be questions. There would be questions and he would feel guilty, and he really wasn’t up for either of those. So he was left in the unenviable position of trying to coordinate a group when he wanted nothing to do with a fourth of it.

“Okay, let’s break into teams,” he murmured, looking over Iron Man’s shoulder instead of actually at the armor… and that only when he was forced to. “Hawkeye, you’re with me. Mission is to capture the other team’s flag – you all know the rules.” Parameters given, he turned on his heel and stalked away to the command post that he’d made his.

The silence left in his wake was deafening, but Steve absolutely refused to turn around and look. Iron Man was _always_ on his team – everyone knew and accepted that. Sure, it’d put a bee in Fury’s bonnet at first, and he’d made no secret of the fact that he took issues with it. In an effort to put an end to it, he’d forced them into team training sessions where they were in opposition to each other… but it never worked out the way he wanted it to. The first time, Iron Man defected to his team; the second time Steve had been the one to turn traitor. During the third (and final) attempt by Fury, they’d both abandoned their teams to go rogue, forming their own faction and decimating the others. Fury’d stopped trying after that, finally getting the message loud and clear: Iron Man and Captain America were a team, and nothing was going to keep them apart.

So walking away and leaving Iron Man behind felt wrong – completely and totally wrong on every level, and the rest of the team was probably feeling it too. The decision sat in his stomach like lead, and he sort of felt like throwing up… but the idea of being on a team with his ‘best friend’ was just as unbearable at the moment. So he kept walking, leaving Iron Man further and further behind, until he’d reached his home base. The one he and Iron Man had claimed as their own, the one with several pictures of them taped up because Clint loved to tease him about their relationship. Sure Iron Man didn’t always attend the team trainings that Steve ran, but when he did grace them with his presence, this was his home base as much as it was Steve’s.

Fuck, this felt so _wrong_.

“Uh… so are you keeping all the kids after the divorce, or will we be splitting time between you and Iron Mom?”

“Can it, Clint,” Steve couldn’t help but snap, feeling the tension in his shoulders mounting by the moment. And shit, when had he started to forget using call signs during training? Shit. “We’re not married and you know it. We’re just fri… teammates.” A hollow feeling opened up beneath his breastbone where his heart was supposed to be, because shit. Iron Man was more than just a member of his team. That was his Shellhead out there without him, but Goddammit he was still so _angry_ with him. “We’re just teammates.” He repeated, trying to ignore how empty the words made him feel.

“Ooookaaaaay. Teammates… riiiiiiight. Got it.” Clint – no, _Hawkeye_ , for fuck’s sake – settled a hand on his shoulder. Steve finally dragged his eyes away from a picture of a ‘hug and fly’ (as his team had laughingly dubbed it) between himself and Iron Man. “Cap… everything okay?” The void inside shifted to an ugly, dark anger, and Steve felt himself snap just a little.

“Everything’s fine, Hawkeye. Why the fuck wouldn’t it be? It’s all abso-fucking-lutely _peachy_. Never better.” That awful feeling inside surged, and he just couldn’t keep it in any longer or he would explode. He snapped his left arm forward, and the force of the gesture had the edge of his shield cutting through concrete like butter. If he hadn’t felt it rumbling in his chest and up his throat, Steve never would have believed the feral growl he could hear was coming from him. Before his eyes, a chunk of the wall fell to the ground, and Clint let out a low whistle.

“Aww, wall. Glad everything’s ‘peachy’ or you might’ve taken out the whole wall. Hey JARVIS?”

“How can I be of assistance, Mr. Barton?”

“Tell team Metal Thunder that training isn’t happening-”

“Clint, you cant-”

“HA! Using my name, not my super identity. You are sooo not in a training frame of mind. So tell JARVIS to pass on the message – we get a day off!”

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve would have said there was _concern_ in the AI’s voice if he didn’t know better. That decided him, and he let out a soft sigh before tugging off his helmet and settling his shield on his back. “Yeah. Yeah, tell the others if you don’t mind, JARVIS.”

“Of course. I will let them know immediately.” There was a beat of silence during which Steve could feel Clint watching him. After a moment, he growled and glared at the other man, feeling his hands clench into fists.

“What?”

“Hey! Woah!” Clint countered, raising both hands into the air in the universal sign for ‘don’t shoot’. “Calm down Cap! We’re on the same team, remember? Even if we’re not, you know, training. Which is fine because there is a case of peanut butter and a box of crackers with my name on ‘em. But, uh…” Pausing, the man scratched his cheek, then shrugged a shoulder and barreled on. “Why was I on your team? I mean, I like being on your team, because we usually win. But, ah… you know. You and Iron Mom are usually-”

“Don’t call him that! It’s Iron Man, Clint. You know that.”

“Aww, no Shellhead?”

“That’s… it’s…” Steve floundered a moment, then squared his jaw. “It’s none of your business, Clint.”

“Mm-hmm. Okay. Fine. You keep your little secrets, Cap. I’ll just keep my ear to the vents – you won’t be able to hide it forever. I, Hawkeye the magnificent, shall sniff out the source of this disturbing shift in dynamic!” There were days when Clint could rival Tony in the dramatics department, and it seemed to be one of those days. The man lifted his hand to shake it at the sky, eyes blazing with determination and his shoulders set. “You shall rue the day you tried to hide your strife!!” With that, he swung around quickly… and ran face-first into Thor’s well-muscled chest. “Aww, my exit!” Pouting, the archer gave Thor a mild glare, then went on his way – probably worried Steve would change his mind and put them all to work, Steve reasoned.

Thor looked vaguely upset, an odd look for the perpetual cheerful demi-god. “Friend Steven! JARVIS informed the valiant Iron Man and myself of the change in plans. We are truly not to engage in battle this day?” Iron Man was standing a few feet behind the Thunderer, and even though Steve refused to look at him, he could feel those bright, beaming eyes fixed on him.

“Not unless we get a call to assemble, no.”

“Ah. That is unfortunate. I was looking forward to facing you – it is rare for the Captain to be without his staunchest of allies! With Iron Man on my side, I was certain we would best you! As it is something unlikely to occur again, I sh-”

“We can fight without being on each other’s side, Thor.” Steve snapped, irritation again competing with the empty, hollow ache. “I don’t need Iron Man to function.”

“I… of course not. I merely… you two are simply the best of Shield Brothers.” The demi-god was clearly taken aback, and unsure of the cause of Steve’s poor mood. Everyone would be – everyone but the ass standing behind him, silent and staring as he’d been through this whole ordeal. “There is no wrong in always wanting your Shield Brother at your side. I apologize if-”

“It’s fine. I gotta run’n hit the shower.” Steve mumbled, feeling just a little bit of Brooklyn enter his voice. He was feeling restless and punchy, and God it was too bad he’d had to cancel training, because it would have done him a world of good to hit something. Maybe after Iron Man went back to Tony, he could go down to the gym and take his mood out on some punching bags.

Without waiting for a reply, Steve gave both his remaining teammates a jerky nod, then sped away towards the elevator. He was _not_ running – Captain America didn’t run from _Nazis_ , so he damn sure wasn’t going to run away from his Shell… from Iron Man. He got uncomfortably close to it though, and gave a sigh of relief under his breath when the doors opened smoothly in front of his face. Stepping in, he told JARVIS to take him to his floor… only to hear the distinctive blast of repulsors being fired. Frowning, Steve told himself not to look, and that was his undoing; a mere moment before the elevator doors close, Iron Man shot inside, hitting the far wall pretty hard. 

Before Steve could react, Iron Man was rattling off a vocal code to JARVIS; the doors shut firmly with a rather forbidding sound, and Steve had the terrible feeling that he was trapped.

“Winghead.” Even through the voice modulator, Iron Man sounded cautious and unsure. “How… how are you?”

“Fine. Thanks. JARVIS, could you open the door please?”

“I’m afraid I’m quite unable to do that, Captain Rogers.”

“Could you at least take me up to my floor?”

“Again, I can offer only my apologies. Iron Man’s override prevents me from allowing this elevator to open or move between floors.” Irritation welled, and Steve shot Iron Man a rather nasty look.

“Can you tell Tony, please? He can override the, ah, override. Can’t he?”

“Of course. Sir is in full control of the building. Unfortunately, he is currently unavailable.”

“JARVIS, I really-”

“ _Dammit_ Steve! I’m right here! Talk to me, you stubborn ass!”

“About what? I don’t really have anything to say to you right now, Iron Man.”

“Shellhead! You’re supposed to call me Shellhead, not Iron Man. I’m not… I haven’t been ‘Iron Man’ to you in a long time.” Again, there was emotion in the man’s voice – despair this time, and Steve hated it. “I... know you’re upset with me. About the other night.”

Steve patently refused to answer, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the closed door in front of him.

“I didn’t… Mr. Stark is… he’s alright as a boss. As a friend probably too, I don’t know. I mean, he’s kind of selfish, so even friendship is a little-” He stopped his sentence short when Steve transferred his glare to the facemask, holding up his hands. “Okay! Sorry. Right. He’s great at friendship, to all two of his close friends. I guess. But I’ve known him longer than you, Winghead. I’ve seen him attempt relationships, and it isn’t pretty.” Steve’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth together, and when he swung his eyes back to the door Iron Man seemed to realize his mistake. “Right. Still insulting. I guess that isn’t going to win me any points with you.”

Silence fell, and Steve was glad for it. He was getting the urge to take a swing at Iron Man again, and the only thing that felt more wrong than ignoring Iron Man was actively fighting against him. After long, long moments, he heard a sigh, and then a gauntleted hand fell on his shoulder.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Steve. You’re… you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy.”

“Tony makes me happy. Even if we never… he won’t want me, not like that-”

“He’d have to be an idiot not to want you, Winghead.”

“That doesn’t matter. He’s got his choice of dames, and I ain’t ever seen him with a fella-”

“He likes ‘fellas’ just fine. Trust me.”

“Well I ain’t ever seen it. And he don’t seem’ta like hanging around me much, not even as friends, so I don’t guess I’ll be rationing him.”

“Your ‘forties era superhero’ is showing.”

“I’m try’n’ta say something here.”

“Sorry, sorry.” It almost felt right, the bantering – it almost felt like things had been fixed between them. Except he still couldn’t imagine letting an affectionate ‘Shellhead’ fall from his lips any time soon.

“Even if I can’t be with him, he makes me happy. I like seeing him, Iron Man, and watching him work. I like it when he lets me bring him food and tell him to go nap. I like it when he makes things special for me that I didn’t ever even ask for. I _like_ him. I never told nobody, because I didn’t… I didn’t think they’d understand. I guess I was right. M’sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but there it is. I like him. I’m hoping… I’m hoping he’ll let me get to know him a bit better. We seemed to get a long yesterday morning alright. I’d like to be his friend, even if I can’t ration him.”

Another long pause, and another heavy sigh. “He’ll hurt you, Steve. If you get close to him, he _will_ hurt you. He won’t mean to, and he’ll be sorry… but he won’t be able to help himself. He hurts everyone close to him in the end, Winghead. I just didn’t want that for you.”

“I can make my own decisions Iron Man. And even if that’s true… it’d be worth it.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed until it was almost painful, then abruptly pulled away. 

“Right. Well I think it’s a huge fucking mistake. You’ll learn though. JARVIS? End override sequence. Take the Captain up to his rooms after you let me the hell out of here.” The doors opened for him as smoothly as they had for Steve, and Iron Man stalked out without another word, without looking back.

Sure, Steve was on his way to his floor and he didn’t have to deal with Iron Man’s judgement anymore, but he didn’t really feel any better.

He still felt trapped and empty, and he wished like hell he’d never opened his mouth and told Iron Man a damn thing. It had been nice, to finally get his feelings out in the open, and spending the morning before with Tony had been wonderful… but he’d lost something too. The easy comradery and friendship between him and Iron Man was strained and difficult for the first time ever, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Hell, he didn’t even know if he _wanted_ to fix it. He did know one thing though.

Steve missed his Shellhead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I'm falling into a pattern of Tony-Iron Man-Tony-Iron Man-Tony when it comes to who Steve is interacting with... so the next chapter will likely have Tony Stark!
> 
> Because this is already trope-y af, I want another trope to bring them together!! Any suggestions/requests as to what that trope will be? Right now I'm leaning towards an abduction... but who should be captured? Tony? Steve? Iron Man? I just am not sure! Help me decide. XD


	5. Theories and Speculation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... I started to write and it... took a turn? o.o;
> 
> Yell at me here or on my Tumblr. <3

“My apologies, Captain Rogers, but the workshop is still in blackout mode.”

“Oh. Could you… tell Tony I’m here?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks JARVIS.”

“… Sir has indicated that he doesn’t wish to be disturbed at this time.”

“I… oh. Uh, does he know I brought food?”

“… … Captain Rogers, I am very sorry to disappoint you-”

“But Tony doesn’t want to see me.”

“That appears to be the case, yes.”

“Oh.”

“I am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, JARVIS. And Tony is a very busy man.”

“So it would seem.”

“I can’t expect him to drop everything just to see me. I mean! To eat. He can’t always drop everything just to eat. I just… it’s been a few days, and I’m… that doesn’t matter. It’s… I mean, this isn’t even a good meal, nothing that would tempt him out anyway. Just pizza.”

“Captain Rogers-”

“No, no. It’s… really okay. I’m just… just gonna lave the plate here, in the hall. He can come’n get it when I’m gone. If he wants. Let him know?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

Once Steve was on the elevator, all his attempts at false, forced cheer fell away; there wasn’t anyone to fool anymore. Sure JARVIS was there as much as he was everywhere in the tower, but they weren’t talking anymore. Steve no longer felt the need to pretend he wasn’t bitterly disappointed that Tony hadn’t let him in.

He’d thought… hoped, really, that their morning together would be the start of something. They hadn’t seen each other the next day, because Steve was busy sulkin- fuming at Iron Man. The day after that, Tony’d been away on business, and the day after _that_ the genius had shut himself away in his workshop. Steve had gone to him at lunchtime, an offering of manicotti in hand. He’d gotten to see Tony for all of two seconds through the glass walls before JARVIS had announced his presence and they’d gone dark.

Steve did his best to pretend that hadn’t torn his heart out.

Tony had refused to see him at dinner too, and for every meal the next two days. Now, the fourth day of Tony’s workshop binge, Steve was worried as well as heartbroken.

And lonely. Fuck was he lonely. Usually Iron Man was around for a few hours every day, but since their argument… well. Steve hadn’t expected him, and Iron Man hadn’t disappointed. The rest of the team were great – really great, honestly – but they weren’t _Iron Man_ and they weren’t _Tony_ and it sucked not to have either of them in his life. To add insult to injury, Tony was locked away getting God only knew how much sleep and probably living on… on smoothies and peanuts, or something equally stupid. If he didn’t come out soon, Steve was going to take drastic action.

He just wished he could figure out what he’d done to make Tony so angry. They’d parted on good terms the last time they’d spoken, and Steve couldn’t think of anything since then that would justify the way Tony had completely shut him out. Not unless Iron Man had said something… but no. He refused to think his best frie- former best friend had betrayed him that way.

When the elevator came to a smooth stop on the common floor, Steve took a deep, bracing breath. Then he pasted a smile on his face and did his best to make himself believe he was absolutely fine – happy even. If he didn’t believe it, nobody else would, and he really, really didn’t want to deal with the team’s inquiries. Especially not with Nat back from whatever she’d been doing; she was already watching him with suspicious eyes after breakfast. She always knew when he was in a bad mood anyway, and there was no way Clint hadn’t filled her in on what had happened during the aborted training session. He had to do at least a passable job at lifting himself out of his misery and pretending it was all good, or she would pounce.

Another breath and Steve was ready to venture forth; the elevator doors didn’t open until he nodded, and he was almost embarrassed at how well JARVIS was able to read him. Shooting a quick, mumbled ‘thank you’ to the AI, he exited the elevator with purpose, smiling his best Brooklyn smile. _I’m happy, I’m happy, I’m happy, nothing is wrong, I’m happy…_

Luck was with him, for the moment – Nat didn’t seem to be around. No one was but Clint, who was sprawled half-on and half-off the couch, tongue sticking out at as did his best to steer down the perpetually slippery Rainbow Road. His whole body was working hard to keep his character – Luigi, because he was overlooked almost as often as ‘Hawkguy’ – on the path, which was probably how he’d ended up half on the floor in the first place. 

The smile that had probably looked closer to a grimace gave way to a real one, and Steve felt warm affection flood his system. Even if they were all a pain in his ass, and even if they were all basically overgrown children, he did love his team. No longer feeling as guarded, he strolled to the couch and plopped down next to Clint… eliciting a string of curses when the movement made his body twitch and his kart spin out of control.

“Noooooooo!” Now he was all the way on the floor, hands held out to the screen in supplication. Steve couldn’t help but start to laugh, and he didn’t stop even when Clint grabbed a throw pillow and began to hit him with it. “I was so close! Cap, I was gonna go all the way, and now I’m in eighth place. _Eighth_! Man, now I’m gonna lose the gold cup, and I’ll never show Peach that I’m better for her than Mario!” Steve was still laughing, though he’d seen Luigi get towed back onto the course so he grabbed the pillow and pointed to the television. Clint, still whining loudly, turned his attention to the game and finished the race – as he’d predicted, he was no longer in first overall.

“Aww, princess…” he mourned, then made a disgusted noise and turned off the console, pouting. “I was gonna do it that time too.”

“I’m sure.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Clint looked over to him, and his expression was entirely too casual. “So, ah… did you see Stark?” Immediately, all his tension and anxiety came back, and Steve had to work very, very hard not to scowl at the archer.

“No.”

“So the pizza-”

“Left it for him.”

“You _wasted_ perfectly good pizza?” Steve snarled at the question and Clint, who looked like he was ready to get down to the workshop’s level ASAP and rescue the pizza so he could put it in his own stomach.

“It is **not** a waste,” he warned the archer, muscles tensing as he readied himself to act. If Clint went for the elevator or the vents, then by God, Steve was not too proud to lunge after him and pin him to the ground. “I think he comes out and gets the food when I’m gone sometimes. You leave it there for him, Hawkeye, or you’ll be running drills again.”

Suddenly Clint was grinning, one brow arched, and he looked entirely too pleased with himself. Steve had the terrible feeling that he’d just fallen into a trap.

“You know… that would be the second time doing drills because of Stark. I find that interesting. _Very_ interesting. You trying to protect him from me, Cap?” Despite the teasing tone, it was clear that Clint was sure he’d discovered some very juicy and very true gossip, and Steve could feel the tips of his ears burning. Soon, his whole face would be tomato red, and fuck he didn’t know how to fix this.

“I… that’s not… I don’t know what you mean. I mean, that would be… Ton- Stark. Stark can take care of himself. Mostly. Sometimes. When it’s not sleeping or eating. And I wouldn’t… I mean…” Shit. Shit, shit, shit on a stick. Why was his mouth so terrible at talking?!

“Uh-huh. I see. Obviously I have no idea what I’m talking about.” Clint retorted gleefully, one hand coming to stroke his chin. “I definitely did not strike a nerve. No way. Not at all. Cap, you ever play poker?”

“Clint.”

“Look, your secret’s safe with me! I won’t tell anyone about your deep and abiding love for- OUCH! No fair!” Steve should maybe feel bad for nailing the archer in the face with the throw pillow, but he didn’t. He really, really didn’t. “Geez! Watch it, super soldier. Don’t damage the merchandise!” As he pulled himself fully back onto the couch, Clint’s mood seemed to take a turn for the serious. “Honest. I won’t tell anyone Cap. If you want to talk about it, I’m your guy. Don’t like Stark very much, but… if you’re hung up on him, there’s gotta be something there, right?” Again came that rush of affection, and it took everything Steve had not to crush the other blond in a bear hug.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he told Clint fervently, wishing Iron Man had reacted the same way. “I mean it. He’s… I know he can be a little… but he’s great under all that. Thanks for not… for not telling me I shouldn’t… you know.”

“Lust after him with the fire of a thousand suns?”

“Clint.”

“Sorry! Sorry. Hey…” The archer turned speculative again, head cocking to the side as he studied Steve. “So… I’m just making a shot in the dark here, but those are usually my best ones, you know? Like, I could definitely beat back an alien invasion in pitch black conditions, so I’m pretty sure I’m not off base with this, but… uh. Did, uh, someone else tell you that you shouldn’t? Shouldn’t like Stark I mean?”

Steve was pretty sure his clenched jaw and hard stare said everything, so he didn’t bother with words. He turned his eyes to the still-bright-but-blank television screen, thoughts on Iron Man and Tony and how it had all gone so _wrong_.

“Oh my god. Is _this_ why with all the drama between you and Iron Mom?”

“Don’t call him-”

“Oh my god! Cap! Steve! You can’t gush to your work-wife about your crushes, man. Not cool.”

“He’s not my… Clint we’re just…” Clint interrupted his floundering quickly, rolling his eyes at the same time.

“You two are not just teammates, or even friends. You’re married, Steve-o, and you’re pretty much the only one who doesn’t know it. I mean, come on! You two are together like, all the time. And sure, sometimes you don’t agree on how to take the bad guys down, but you’re still always on the same side. Cap, you basically told Fury to fuck off when he kept trying to put you on opposing teams. _Fury_. Fuck off. You pretty much said it.”

“That doesn’t mean… Iron Man doesn’t…”

“You have pet names for each other! Nobody else can call you ‘Winghead’ – you clench up tighter than clam when they do. And if anyone else calls him ‘Shellhead’? Cap, he dropped me from twenty stories up when I dared.”

“He caught you again,” Steve defended weakly, head buzzing with this new possibility.

“Yeah, but still. Point fucking made, you know? And that’s the other thing, the flying. You two have a _thing_ about it. The hug-and-fly is _soooooo_ a couples thing. He doesn’t do that for any of the rest of us. How many times have you jumped in front of him to take a hit? How many times has he done the same for you?”

“I… I…” Gaping, Steve couldn’t find words. This was… there was no way! Him and _Iron Man_? No, it couldn’t be. Clint was just teasing him again, like he always did. He’d pointed all this shit out before, just… never all at once. Steve had to admit that it was all sort of damning when put into a single compilation.

“You’re fucking married to the guy, Steve. I kinda figured… I don’t know. I guess I thought he’d already let you see under the armor. Just lost fifty bucks, actually – I bet Tash that you two were banging like bunnies. Instead you’ve been gushing to him about your crush. Who is his boss. Man, he must be _soooo_ sad.”

“I have an alternate theory.”

Steve launched a good foot in the air when the smooth female voice sounded in the air above their heads. Clint jumped _and_ shrieked, which helped him feel a tiny bit better about his own reaction.

“Fuck, Tash! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Tipping his head back, Steve watched Natasha shrug carelessly at Clint, then vault over the back of the couch to land between them.

“You’re a spy too, Clint. You shouldn’t be so easy to sneak up on.” A smirk hovering on her lips, Nat held one small, delicate, insanely deadly hand out towards her best friend. Grumbling, Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, slapping a pile of bills into her palm with little grace.

“Whatever. Fuck you. So what’s _your_ theory then? Because I’m sticking by the whole ‘Captain Dad and Iron Mom are totally married’ thing.”

“Oh, they are.”

“HA!”

“But they’re work spouses,” Nat continued, gently cuffing Clint upside the head after his outburst. “Work spouses and best friends – Iron Man isn’t going to get jealous over Steve’s attraction to Tony, not without something else at work.”

“If we could not talk about that, that would be great.”

“You’re adorable when you blush, Cap.”

“Clint, stop teasing him. Sorry Steve – I’m just trying to make a point. I think Iron Man would be happy if you found someone to see romantically. Anyone _except_ Tony Stark.”

“But why?” Steve heard the note of anguish in his own voice, and he hated it. He sounded stupid and emotional and _weak_ , and fuck this was so stupid. So what if Iron Man didn’t want him with Tony? It didn’t matter, not really. He was a grown man, and he didn’t need anyone’s permission, and anyway-

“Tony Stark and Iron Man were involved. Romantically.”

Every thought in Steve’s brain skittered to a halt, and he could only stare blankly at Nat. That couldn’t… there was no way that could be right. Except Nat was a Black Widow, and she knew fucking _everything_ , and she had briefly worked for SI and Tony when SHIELD was evaluating Iron Man, so wouldn’t she know? Except Iron Man had _never_ said anything, and… and…

“No.” Vaguely, Steve registered that his lips felt numb, and he thought he should maybe be more concerned about that. Everything felt cold and far away, and fuck. No. There was no way that they’d been… involved. Except… except Iron Man had such _strong_ feelings about his crush, and some of the things he’d said…

Steve would rather believe that Iron Man was upset because he was jealous. All of Clint’s words had been true, and he also remembered all the times when he and Iron Man had touched, so that theory was equally as valid. Wasn’t it? Sure, it was almost as bad, but at least it didn’t have him picturing his Tony and his Shellhead in bed together.

Tony and Shellhead. Bed. Doing… doing things.

Naked things.

That was either incredibly disturbing or the hottest thing he’d ever heard of, and Steve honestly didn’t know which was worse.

“Shit, Tash. I think we broke him.” They’d been trying to get his attention, trying to get him to say something, Steve realized. Clint was even shaking his shoulder, but he could hardly feel it, because _his Tony_ and _his Shellhead_ and he and his Shellhead were _married_ and this was… too much. Too much and not enough and he… he was tired.

“’M fine.” Steve told them both, managing to make brief eye contact with each. They wouldn’t really buy it, of course, but it might be enough for them to let him go “I think you’re both wrong. But… I gotta… I gotta go. Think about all… all this. Yeah.”

His team – his friends – looked concerned, but after a moment Nat gave him the ghost of a smile. She ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, then nodded. “Alright. If you need anything, let us know.” It wasn’t quite a request and it wasn’t exactly a command – it fell somewhere in between, a show of concern and care. Clint backed it up with enthusiastic nodding, still looking pretty worried about him.

“I’m fine,” he said again, putting a bit more confidence behind the words this time. Steve hated when they were concerned. “Really. It’s just… it’s been a shitty few days.” Understanding murmurs met his words, and then he was free to head to the elevator.

Once in it and headed to his own floor, he swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling. It had been a hard habit to break, and when he was stressed Steve didn’t bother to fight the urge. “JARVIS?”

“Yes Captain Rogers?”

“When I… when I get to my floor, could you please engage full privacy mode?”

There was a long pause, and Steve had a terrible feeling of guilt and shame, like the AI _knew_ what he was about to do. Instead of condemnation, however, Steve would swear he heard a bit of amusement in that British accent. “Of course, Captain Rogers. Let me know when you are no longer… occupied.”

“Th-thanks, JARVIS.” It was embarrassing to ask… but this way no one would be able to bother him unless there was an emergency. He just needed some time to himself and some privacy so he could think about this. Think about the possibility of his Shellhead being jealous and wanting him – jealous enough maybe to push him against the wall, armored fingers biting into his hips as he retracted the face mask and – which as absolutely ridiculous. And anyway, _Steve_ wanted _Tony_ – wanted to bury his fingers in the genius’ hair and kiss his way down his slender throat, wanted to leave his mark there for everyone to see – so it really didn’t matter if Iron Man was jealous. The thought of them _together_ – Tony pressed tight to his Shellhead’s armor, rocking his hips against a metal thigh while shockingly red gauntlets groped his ass – was just unbearable.

Steve definitely needed a lot of privacy to process it all, along with maybe some lotion and tissues.


	6. Star Spangled Spazz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took waaaay longer than it was supposed to. ^.^;; My brother got suspended from work for a while, and I dropped out of college, so we kind of absconded. Went away to one of his friend's houses and played PS2 and commiserated and got maybe a little drunk. Came back briefly for Thanksgiving, but otherwise I've mostly been away from a computer. Had my phone, but I don't really like typing out a lot on that - comments are just about all I can manage. XD But here it is finally, and the rest of my stories should be updated in the next couple days.
> 
> Also, I'm trying to work on being able to write short things - gimme some prompts? Will take them here on on my [tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/). <3
> 
> Please comment? I will love you forever and ever and ever. <3

Rationally, Steve knew that Tony was okay. Sure, maybe he hadn’t been getting enough sleep, and if he hadn’t been eating the food Steve’d been leaving, he might’ve lost a few pounds, but he was still fine. JARVIS wouldn’t allow his creator to come to any real harm, after all. If the genius needed him (or any sort of medical attention), JARVIS would make sure it happened; until then, nobody was getting anywhere near the man. So Tony was fine, and Steve didn’t need to be worrying. It was ridiculous to imagine the brilliant idiot had keeled over in there, laying in a pool of his own blood and waiting for Steve to save him.

If he could just get his heart on board with that logic, he’d feel a lot better.

A week wasn’t even that long to go without seeing Tony, not really. He’d always hated the lack of regular contact between them, but it had just never hit him quite so hard before. Maybe it was because he’d finally talked about how he felt – it was out there, and now Steve itched to _do_ something about it. It felt more real now that other people knew, intensifying his need to matter to Tony in some way. If Tony didn’t want to be his best guy, Steve would happily accept being friends – just so long as Tony _cared_ and they spent actual _time_ together.

Another part of his anxiety was a reaction to missing his Shellhead, he knew that… even if he was doing his best not to think about it. Or about Iron Man at all, really, and _especially_ not about Iron Man and Tony being together. He’d allowed himself one afternoon to imagine the best – and most naked – parts of that scenario, given himself a day to stew and sulk over all the ways Nat’s theory was an utter, unmitigated _disaster_ of epic proportions, then shoved the whole idea as far out of his thoughts as he could manage. It was mostly working too. Except for how he missed his Shellhead like an amputated limb, of course. And every time he ached for that missing piece of himself, it inevitably brought his thoughts circling back to that horribly intriguing possibility.

It was all putting Steve just a little on edge – just enough that the whole team knew something was off with him. Bruce and Thor thought it was because of Iron Man, and were constantly suggesting ways to mend fences – they were right, but not really, so most of it wasn’t helpful. At the same time, Clint and Nat were sending him looks increasingly full of pity after ever failed attempt to gain entry to Tony’s workshop – they were also right, and just as unable to assist in his endeavor. They were _all_ coddling him, and he’d be irritated as fuck about it if their care didn’t also fill him with warmth and affection.

Each of them had different ways of trying to spend time with him and help him perk up. Bruce kept offering him tea, or inviting him to join in his daily meditations – it was sweet, to have the man willing to accept Steve into his space despite the risk to his calm. Thor tended to challenge him to various tests of strength, which was a great way to get his mind off things for a little while. Sure they’d kind of destroyed half the gym in their last bout of wrestling, but they’d _both_ left laughing, so Steve couldn’t feel too guilty or upset about it. It had been nice to laugh. The way Nat would lean against him when they sat next to each other and the way she allowed him to lean back into her spoke volumes about the way she trusted him. Sometimes she would run her fingers in a soothing massage over his scalp, and once had even let him fall asleep on her shoulder without making a single threat against him. Clint… well. Clint tried, but his version of ‘coddling’ mostly involved dropping in on Steve through the vents at all hours and asking if he wanted to play a game, or get pizza, or go shoot things. It was more startling than anything, but it was good of the man to try – and Steve knew that if he wanted or needed to actually talk, Clint would be there for him in a heartbeat. His entire team was in on the rest of it; he’d been deciding what to eat for dinner and what movies they were watching, and every single one of them (bar Iron Man) had been reporting unfailingly to every team meeting, brief, and training session. It was sweet, ridiculous and absolutely infuriating… and it was also the closet he’d felt to _home_ since waking up in the future.

Due to their show of concern, avoiding his team was almost impossible and also left him feeling vaguely guilty, but sometimes he needed just a bit of space. He’d discovered that JARVIS was willing to assist in the matter – the AI seemed delighted to be able to serve, actually, especially since he was still obliged to refuse Steve access to Tony. Working together, they managed to carve out patches of time during the day that were team-free. During those periods, JARVIS led anyone who wanted to talk to him on merry little chases around the tower and did _not_ give anyone his actual location. If anyone seemed at risk of stumbling on him accidentally, JARVIS actively steered them away, then warned Steve so he could move. It was working great, letting him have time with his thoughts before he rejoined the suffocating members of his team.

So when he heard the doors of the elevator opening, disturbing his concentration during one of his little breaks, he sent a look of alarm at the ceiling. “JARVIS!” he hissed, slamming the covers of the book he was reading together. The little library (that took up a whole _floor_ , but Tony still seemed to think it was miniscule) was one of Steve’s favorite retreats. He could go there to catch up on things and hold actual _books_ in his hands, and he really, really didn’t want anyone to realize how much time he spent there. “You couldn’na even warned a guy?”

Shit, those were footsteps, and he did _not_ want to talk to anyone. He couldn’t see whoever had joined him, so it was likely the person didn’t yet know he was there – he could get out of this contact-free. With the book clutched in one hand, he threw himself out of his chair and hit the floor as soundlessly as he could manage, keeping himself low to the ground as he scrambled behind one bookcase for cover. His serum-enhanced hearing let him track the owner of the footsteps, which was a blessing. It sounded like whoever had found him was on the other side of that same bookcase, and Steve continued to stay nearly silent as he edged in the opposite direction, hoping – _praying_ , really – that he could round the corner at the right time and they’d miss each other. It was like that game Clint had dragged out the other day on an aging, dusty system – Zelda, he was pretty sure. He was like Link, trying to evade the eyes of the guards, and-

“Jaaaaaay, I thought you said he was _heeeeeere_.” That was TONY whining at the AI! Tony had come to find him!

Any ‘cool’ (as Nat and Clint called it) Steve possessed immediately left the building and possibly even the country. He perked up like a puppy presented with a treat, and even though he _knew_ how ridiculous he was being, he couldn’t stop himself. He jumped up to his feet… or at least he tried. He didn’t realize that, on hearing that wonderful voice, he’d leaned toward the bookcase. The result was that his head slammed _hard_ against the underside of one of the shelves, and he was sure the ‘thud’ could be heard throughout the entirety of the tower. He bit out a soft ‘fuck’ that was still full of feeling, resisting the urge to shout it out so he could avoid drawing any more attention to himself. He needn’t have bothered though.

Not when the shelf he’d hit couldn’t take the force of it. It had splintered, and then a moment after his exhaled curse, it gave completely, twenty or so heavy encyclopedias sinking towards the center and then falling in a wave on top of Steve’s head. Down he went, in surprise more than anything else, ending up sprawled face-down on the floor as books continued to tumble down his back. Each smack of the leather-bound volumes seemed as loud as a firing gun, and even if it didn’t really hurt, Steve winced at each one. There was absolutely no way Tony hadn’t heard, and this was _humiliating_. He should get up, but a part of him – the part that had been beaten down during this past Tony-and-Shellhead-free-week – felt like he belonged there on the floor in a pile of books and splintered wood. This was his life now, and he should just accept it.

Captain America was stoic and patriotic, unyielding in the face of adversity and full of self-possessed confidence. He could be trusted with the toughest of missions, and as the leader of the Avengers was afforded the kind of respect that most people could only dream of.

Steve Rogers was, in modern terms, a _fucking spazz_.

Maybe he should only talk to Tony when he had the uniform on…

For long moments, there was silence, and Steve sort of hoped that maybe Tony would just kind of stand there until he’d managed to pull himself together. Maybe Tony would even just leave, and let Steve cling to the last remaining strand of his dignity. Alas, it wasn’t to be, because those footsteps came again, and now they were getting closer. Again, he thought that he should probably just get up and maybe even flee, but he ended up just… staying there, hiding his flaming face in a rather soft carpet. He couldn’t even see Tony’s shoes, but he did hear them come to a stop, and he guessed they were maybe a couple inches away at most. More silence, and he was sure Tony was taking everything in, from the pile of books to the broken shelf to the flush that he was sure was crawling up the back of his neck and over his ears.

“Uh… found him. I think. Cap? Steve? Cap? Are you… okay?”

“Yeah.” Another prolonged lack of words, and Steve could only imagine the kinds of things Tony would be thinking. This was so embarrassing, and he had no idea how to save the situation, or how to even make it bearable. All the plans he usually had spinning in his thoughts were just… gone, leaving him feeling blank and stupid, and why couldn’t he ever do anything _right_ in front of Tony?

“Right. Sorry I bothered you.” There was something tight in the genius’ voice, and Steve’s already heavy heart plummeted like a stone. “You’ve been stopping by so often, so I thought… but hey, that’s fine. Didn’t know I was so bad you’d try to crawl out of the room though.” Shit. That was his ‘press voice’, the one he pulled out when he had reporters trying to rip him to pieces. They didn’t seem to realize that Tony fucking Stark would never put up with that, and would shred himself with jokes before they managed, so they couldn’t claim to have done the damage. He _hated_ when he was the reason Tony pulled that voice out.

“NO!” Shouting, he was shouting, but the situation sort of called for it. Steve popped up like one of those Jack-in-the-Boxes, shedding encyclopedias as he went. Tony was startled, or at least he seemed to be – he’d scurried back a couple steps and was looking at Steve with huge brown eyes. “No, no. I… there was… JARVIS was supposed ta… I mean… s’not _you_ , Tony, I swear. I just… the team’s been all… they been smotherin’ me kinda, so I been… JARVIS… JARVIS…” 

Tony didn’t seem to know whether to be amused or offended, really, and there was something else in his eyes that had Steve’s stomach clenching in a pleasant way. “I don’t speak Brooklynese, Steve.” Thank God, that tightness was gone, because Steve couldn’t _stand_ to hear it any more. But he wondered if Tony was getting sick, because now his voice was a bit rougher than usual, and was that a bit of a flush on his cheeks? Shit, he was probably getting sick, and he was having to put up with Steve being an _idiot_ instead of going to bed to rest. “Can you translate, Jay?”

“Of course, sir. As of late, the Avengers have engaged in various efforts to cheer Captain Rogers up.” Steve wanted to protest, because that was _true_ and Tony didn’t need to know. Except the genius’ expression suddenly looked a little softer, so… so maybe it was okay. “They can be… exuberant in their affections, especially Mr. Barton. I have been aiding Captain Rogers in evading them, and I believe he expected one of them had arrived instead of yourself, sir. Captain Rogers, I _do_ apologize. I simply assumed you would like to see sir for yourself, as I know you’ve been concerned for his health.” Now Tony looked shocked, like he couldn’t fathom the fact that anyone would be worried about him.

“Jay, I’m sure he wasn’t _concerned_ -”

“I was, actually,” he interrupted, pushing himself to his feet as he studied the man in front of him. The perpetual bruises under his eyes were deeper and darker than usual, and his clothes were hanging just a little on his frame. Still, he made the grungy tank top and ripped jeans look _good_ , even with the myriad of stains in the fabric and the way his hands and arms were speckled with small burns and scrapes. He looked so _Tony_ , and Steve desperately wanted to sweep him up into his arms and carry him to bed so he could sleep, then stuff him full of food when he woke up.

He settled for shooting him a wry half-smile and lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“I worry about you when you stay down there that long, Tony. I know you can take care of yourself,” he added, heading off the protest the genius opened his mouth to deliver. “And I know JARVIS is looking out for you too, so you were fine. I just...” Okay, so he could do this, right? Yeah, he could. Tony was part of his team, so it totally wasn’t strange to worry. “I care about you, Tony. So when I don’t see you for a week and a couple-a days, it kinda makes me antsy. Maybe next time… maybe I could at least drop off food?” The hope in his voice was ridiculous, but then so was the way Tony’s mouth was hanging open, leaving him gaping like a landed fish. “Or maybe just… every couple-a days get visual or auditory confirmation that yer doin’ okay?”

“I… uh...”

“And I am happy to see ‘im, JARVIS. Just next time tell me it’s Tony so I don’t hurt myself tryin’ta evade Nat.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

“Again – no. You two are not allowed to be all buddy-buddy.” Tony interjected, pointing an accusing finger first at Steve, then at the ceiling – mostly to make fun of him, Steve was sure. “No no no. Because you two will fucking gang up on me, to make me – god forbid,” he interrupted himself to give a dramatic shudder, and Steve absolutely went stupid for the playful twinkle in his eye. “ _Sleep_ regularly and eat _healthy_ food _three times_ a goddamn day, and no. I refuse. I’m good like this, thanks. I know how to keep myself alive, Steve. Cap. Steve. Uh. Are you sad? Usually you only cheer up sad people. I don’t like it when you’re sad. Sad Spangles is no bueno. Not allowed in the tower. Why are you sad?”

“I’m not _sad_ ,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks start to burn again as he looked away from Tony. He brought his left hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it as he tried to figure out how to navigate this conversation that was littered with landmines. “Just… I you know. I uh, miss… the past?” he tried, knowing he was being incredibly unconvincing. And yeah, when he glanced to Tony, the other man looked completely unimpressed, crossing his arms over his chest. The move had Steve noticing muscles that were usually under wraps, and he swallowed hard, quickly looking away again. “Uh. I mean.”

Sighing, he shrugged and then dropped to his knees – he didn’t quite understand the choked noise Tony made, but when it dissolved into coughing, he decided that the genius was _definitely_ getting sick. He started to lay plans as he gathered up the books into two piles, neatening the mess at least a little, ignoring Tony’s ‘you don’t have to do that’s as he tried to come up with an acceptable reason for being sad.

Maybe the truth – or at least part of it – was his best bet.

“I was worried about you,” he reiterated, not even needing to look up to know Tony was wearing a look of utter disbelief. “I didn’ know if you were, you know, okay, and I…” Pausing, he shrugged and gave a measured sigh. “You let me feed ya th’other day, and then you wouldn’t, and I wasn’t sure if… maybe I did soemthin’. Did I do somethin’?” Steve couldn’t help but peek up at Tony, and that had him again noticing that light flush in the man’s cheeks.

“That’s… I… what? No! No no no. What could you even have done? No. You were… you thought you did something? No. I was just… I was working on the suit.” Tony was eyeing him carefully, like he wasn’t sure how to break the news to Steve. “And uh, I just. I couldn’t help but notice… for fuck’s sake get up.” Maybe he should have been offended by the way Tony snapped the last, but he was way too focused on the calloused hands that wrapped around his bicep to try and drag him to his feet. There was no way the genius could have managed it without Steve’s assistance and they both knew it… but Steve humored him, clambering up to stand in front of the other man. “Cards on the table, Steve-o. Usually Iron Man is here like, all the time. Don’t really mind, since he’s my bodyguard and all. It’s kind of what I pay him for, and he’s got a floor and everything. But see, he knows he doesn’t _need_ to be with me here, since you Avengers would leap to my defense-”

“We would,” Steve told him swiftly, letting his iron determination show in his voice. “You’re ours, Tony. You’re an Avenger too – we wouldn’t let anyone come _near_ you.” Just the thought of it was enough to light a fire in his gut, and he didn’t notice how tightly he was clenching his right hand until he felt warm fingers trailing lightly over his knuckles. Surprised, he opened the fist and brought his eyes to Tony’s, breath catching at the look in those beautiful brown orbs.

“I know, Steve,” he soothed – Steve wished he hadn’t pulled his hand back, but couldn’t bring himself to reach out in return either. “I know that. That’s why I don’t make Iron Man stay here – when I’m in the tower for the day, or week, or whatever, he can go home. To his life, such as it is. But see, usually he stays anyway. I know you two are, you know. Close. Which is good! He needs friends. I always feel bad that… anyway. But uh, see. Lately he _hasn’t_ been staying, and I thought maybe you two had a falling out, so since I was working on a new Mark for the armor, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see it and be reminded, so I just thought maybe it was better to not let you in. And now I think maybe that’s really why you’re sad, because he hasn’t been around, and I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, hey… breathe, Tony. Breathe, okay?” It was a little worrying, the way the genius had stopped taking breaths, and the way his words had sped up and his eyes kept getting wider and wider. “That’s not… it wasn’t…” Sighing again, Steve gathered his courage and reached out, lightly catching hold of Tony’s wrist. “Let’s go sit, okay? You gotta be tired, and my head is kinda hurting. Knowledge is heavy.” The plaintive complaint made Tony laugh, getting that vulnerable expression of his face – a victory as far as Steve was concerned. That he didn’t shake Steve off was another one; the genius let him keep his fingers lightly around his wrist the whole way to where Steve had previously been sitting.

And yeah, they settled on separate chairs, but Tony _did_ collapse into the one closest to his.

“Shellhead’n me…” Steve started, then grimaced. “I mean… me and Iron Man are just having a bit of a disagreement, I guess.” Tony had blanched when he walked back on the nickname, and he felt bad for upsetting his teammate’s employer. “I don’t… I think he’s got the wrong idea about a fella I been thinking about making time with.”

“He’s a really great judge of charact-”

“Not this time,” Steve interrupted, trying to be gentle and firm at the same time. “He’s got it all wrong. I don’t know why he’s so determined to see the worst in my guy, but I don’t appreciate it.”

“I thought you liked women.” Tony murmured, sounding dazed – he was even swaying a little in his seat, and Steve resolved to try and hurry him to bed as soon as the moment was right.

“I do. I mean.” Color was probably filling his cheeks again, and Steve wished it was as hard to make him blush as it was to get Tony to. “I like both? I always have. Just, back then you didn’t talk about it, and I figured I’d probably end up settling down with a dame. Woman. After the war, I figured… well, if I found one that suited.” The thought of Peggy and he bright red lips cut him deep, but it was an old hurt – one he could accept and then push beyond. “Nowadays, seems like I have just as good a chance at making a life – a real life – with a fella.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Uh. Is that… I mean I know not everyone… Iron Man said you didn’t have a problem with…”

“NO!” Tony burst out, interrupting Steve’s rather flustered question. “No problems here. I just hadn’t thought… I thought it would be a problem for _you_. Now I know. No problems. None whatsoever. But uh… don’t take this the wrong way. But Iron Man really probably knows what he’s talking about. Like I said, he’s a good judge of character, and he can get background checks on people and all that jazz. So, uh, maybe this fella is really just bad news. Bad news bears, Cap. Whoever you like is probably no good.”

“He’s the best.”

“… … oh.” For a wild moment, Steve thought that maybe Tony knew who he was talking about. Their gazes were locked, and the genius seemed stunned again, wonder and awe and disbelief shining in his eyes. Maybe… maybe this was their moment? Swallowing hard, Steve reached for his courage and his words, and prayed that this time they wouldn’t come out _wrong_ … only to have Tony steal them away. “Well, Spangles, if you think so, maybe it’s true. But you should make up with Iron Man, because again – I don’t like you sad. Missing him makes you sad, apparently. And, uh… I think… I think maybe he misses you too.”

Suspicion reared its ugly head, but at least it was one he’d grown used to these past few days. Tony seemed to care an awful lot about this, and Iron Man, and he’d been working on the suit. Maybe they really had been together.

Fuck.

He could ask, but he didn’t really want to know; shrugging, he gave Tony another half-smile. “I do. Miss him, I mean. He’s my best friend, you know? Thought he was, anyway. But then I hear him talk about… I don’t like it. Says he’s trying to protect me, and he wants me to be happy, but… I don’t need him to. Just maybe he could be happy for me, or at least keep quiet about it. If something happens and I fuck it all up, then he can say I told you so, but until then-”

“Steve, you could _never_ fuck it up. You’re all… you _you_. Steve Rogers and Captain American in one star spangled package. But if this guy you’re talking about fucks it up, Iron Man isn’t going to say ‘told you so’. He’ll destroy the guy.” There was a kind of grim certainty in his voice, one that Steve shouldn’t find as warming as he did.

“Yeah, well. I don’t need that either. But hey, Tony? Just because we’re on the rocks doesn’t mean I can’t see the suit. Iron Man is… I care about him. We’ll figure this out, I’m sure. Used to argue with Bucky all the time, but it never stuck. Until then… don’t shut me out to work on the suit. Please?” When Tony opened his mouth, Steve hurried on, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings. “I know a lot of what you work on is classified. I’m not after your secrets, and I don’t want total access or anything. But maybe… like I said. Maybe I can bring food sometimes, or just maybe check on you every couple days for a few minutes. Please? I was really worried, Tony, even though I know you can take care of yourself. I… we’re friends, right? I worry about my friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.” Now he sounded dazed again, and Steve felt a bit of worry flare up. He reached out and settled a steadying hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze just because he could. “Uh. We’ll figure something… Jay?”

“Yes sir?”

“Make sure Steve has access to the workshop, okay?”

“Tony, you don’t have to-” he quieted when Tony waved him off, then continued.

“Whenever I’m not working on the top secret stuff, he can come in. We’ve got his biometrics, so key the scanner to him. When I am in blackout mode for the classified shit, let him know that’s why he can’t come in. And we’ll work up an override code for him too, so if he gets too worried, he can come in. We can make it so it only works if he hasn’t been able to get in for… uh…”

“Three days, sir?”

“… is that when you start to worry, Jay?”

“I do not experience such emotions, sir, as you are well aware.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Yeah, yeah. Override’ll work after three days of radio silence on my end.” Steve knew he was staring at Tony, and his hand was squeezing down again, but he couldn’t help it. He felt dizzy and giddy, because he’d just gotten unprecedented access into Tony’s life. Never again, he promised himself silently. Never again would he go days without seeing his fella. “Send the info to Steve’s tablet please, Jay. Walk him through any questions he has. It’s best if I don’t know the code so I don’t fiddle with it.”

“Tony, I… that’s really… thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Tony-”

“I _said_ no problem.”

“Right. You hungry?” Tactical retreats were definitely useful when it came to Tony, Steve was learning. If he could keep knowing when to let something drop and switch topics, maybe they’d stop arguing, and things between them could keep getting better. “We’ve got leftovers on the common floor.”

“The… common floor?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t usually… I mean that’s your space. For the Avengers. I’m not-”

“You’re an Avenger-”

“-really on the team and-”

“-you’re on the fucking team, Tony-”

“-I really shouldn’t intrude, since I’m not-”

“You. Are. An. Avenger.” Steve told him, steel in his voice and his jaw set stubbornly. “You, Tony Stark, are as much an Avenger as me. Anyone who doesn’t think so can fight me.”

“‘Fight me’? Clint taught you ‘fight me’?”

“Yeah. So unless you want to, you’d better admit you’re an Avenger.”

“Steve, I’m no-”

“So you wanna fight me?”

“Steve, you’d snap me like a twig. No I don’t want to fight you.”

“So I guess you’re an Avenger then.”

“You’re impossible. Stop grinning at me like that. Weirdo.”

“I can grin whenever I want. Wanna fight me about it?”

“Oh my fucking god. You’re ridiculous. And it’s not even funny.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Whatever, Spangles. Feeeeeeeed me.”

“Come on then. You can pick something for me to heat up outta the fridge on the common floor.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“… ugh. Fine. Common floor, since I don’t want to die today.”

“ _Tony_.”

“It was a joke! Fuck, I know you wouldn’t… oh my god, are you grinning again? You… are you _trolling_ me? Steven Rogers!”

“Tony, I wouldn’t ever.”

“Put the innocent eyes away, Steve. They aren’t going to work. Not anymore. I’m on to you.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“… not working. Nope.”

“Hey, we should set you up with sparring lessons, since you’re finally admitting you’re an Avenger.”

“Steve, I’m… I don’t need…”

“All Avengers need training, Tony. I’ve been letting yours slide for too long. Me or Nat’ll take care of it.”

“Not Clint?”

“No. You two would kill each other. Or start a prank war with each other. Or prank the rest of the tower. No.”

“But _Steeeeeve_.”

“No.”

“Fight me.”

As the elevator doors closed behind them and they headed up to the common floor, something in Steve settled. The banter between them felt… warm and familiar and perfect. It felt like they’d been doing this forever, and Steve felt a surge of hope – they clicked. They were right.

Now he just had to convince Tony of that.


	7. Missing Iron Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... might be terrible? :'D It was hard to get into the swing of it, but I think I maybe managed okay? Sort of?
> 
> I thiiink it's going to be winding down soon - I only have a couple more things I want to happen before Steve figures out the truth, and I don't want to drag it out forever and ever. So probably only three or four-ish chapters? Maybe less if I do longer ones? I don't know? 
> 
> Please comment and tell me how awful it is. XD
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! <3

“Any… word from… Iron Man yet… Cap?”

Hawkeye was winded, and it sounded like he was running – not a good sign. Not when their arrow-wielding sniper had been posted on a rooftop some distance from the team. It was _especially_ bad considering their current complete lack of air support. Thor was away on business to Asgard, and Iron Man… Iron Man had just… not responded to Steve’s call.

“Negative.” And he was not worried by that lack of response, no siree. “What’s your status, Hawkeye?” Steve punctuated the question by slamming his shield into the face of one of the robots that had gotten a little too close for comfort. Dr. Doom was the most irritating man on the planet, and Steve _hated_ when the Fantastic Four weren’t around to fight him off, leaving the Avengers to take care of him instead. Usually it was all made slightly better by the presence of Iron Man, who could scan Doom’s metal minions and send the info to Tony, who would in turn point out a flaw of weakness they could exploit.

This time there was no Iron Man, and no such intel. They were in just a tiny bit of trouble, if he were being honest.

“Status is… _**shit**_. Hold – **hah**! Take… that… metal mouth! Status is… not good… Cap. Gettin’… gettin’ overrun. Like… like _rats_ … left… my nest. Head… yer way. Havin’ trouble… breakin’ through.”

“Widow?”

“You’re okay here?”

“Yeah.” The word was more a grunt as he used his shield to block a blow before throwing it. It arced through the air and cut through three of the robots, leaving them sparking and broken on the ground before it hit off the side of a building to return to him. It was hardly a dent in the sea of robots around him, but it was enough to convince her that he’d be fine for now. After quickly disabling the foe she’d been engaged with, she jumped onto it as it toppled, using it as a way to leap over the crowd surrounding her. Once free, she dashed off in the direction they’d left their sniper in.

“On my way to provide Hawkeye an escort. Don’t die before I get there, bird brain.”

“Awww, Nat… you do care.”

“No real names on the coms.” Steve reminded, even knowing it was mostly useless when it came to Hawkeye. At least there wasn’t much chatter… but then again, that was because Iron Man hadn’t answered. Iron Man wasn’t there, and Hawkeye was in a tight spot, so the lack of banter didn’t make him as happy as it otherwise might have. Fuck, he wished Thor hadn’t gone back to Asgard!

“Hey guys… are we at a Code Green?” Brue sounded timid, and unhappy about the possibility which made something twinge in Steve’s chest. “There’s only three of you…”

“I think we’re alright for now, Dr. Banner,” he answered, unashamed of the warmth and affection in his voice. “Doom’s mostly watching and monologue-ing, and the robots aren’t all that tough. There’s just a lot of ‘em.” If Doom actually decided he wanted to fight them, then yeah, they’d need Bruce – until then, he was determined not to force the scientist into a fight he didn’t want.

“… alright. But use me if you need to, Cap.”

“Will do, I promise.” God, he hoped it didn’t come to that, because he absolutely would use the Hulk if he had to. But really, the robots Doom had sent against them weren’t especially hard to fight – nothing like what the supervillain usually sent against them. Huh. Maybe he should have paid attention to the monologue? There would have been some hints there. Except really, he was probably just trying to get Reed Richards’ attention without an actual plan for world domination this time; that would definitely account for the difference, and todays ‘quantity over quality’ approach.

Maybe Iron Man was right, and the Avengers should play matchmaker to make the nonsense stop.

By the time Black Widow and Hawkeye were able to take care of his pursuers and rejoin the main fight, Steve had waded through about a third of Doom’s forces. He was getting tired, and accumulating a rather hefty number of shallow wounds. Hawkeye was limping – looked like he’d been clipped pretty good on his right leg – and he was almost out of arrows. Widow looked fine, because she always managed to look that way in a fight, but Steve was sure he could see signs of strain around her eyes. Fuck, he didn’t want to call in Bruce, but if something didn’t change…

Steve heard the distinctive whine of a repulsor beam powering up; on instinct more than anything else, he aimed the shield toward the sound. Hawkeye let out a whoop of victory when a bright blue light slammed against the vibranium surface, then rebounded off to start slicing with ease through their robot foes. With barely a grunt of effort, Steve angled and moved the shield, directing the destruction until the beam cut off and Iron Man landed at his side.

Landed and then wobbled, causing Steve to let out a quiet sound of dismay as he reached out to steady the man in the armor. He’d hardly ever seen Iron Man be anything but annoyingly graceful – he operated the armor like it was a part of him, just an extension of his regular body. Unless he was injured (and even then, he had to be nearly crushed), Iron Man was a solid, steady presence who never wavered or fell.

But when Steve removed his supporting hand, the man in metal immediately swayed and nearly toppled over again.

“Shellhead?” he asked, the fear and uncertainty spiking in him enough to make him forget how unhappy he was with his friend. He couldn’t see any signs of an injury; there were no gashes or dents in the armor. As far as Steve knew, Iron Man had been scheduled to be at an event with Tony, so he shouldn’t have been in any real danger at all. So what the hell was wrong with his friend.

“’M fine, Wing’ead.” Was the man _drunk_? The slur in his words pointed to that being a distinct possibility, but Steve would never have believed Iron Man would be so careless as to pilot the suit when he was compromised. And really, he was firing at the Doom Bots with ease, taking out a good number of the things with every sweep of his repulsors – more than Steve was managing “Jus’… had s’m trouble. At SI. Doooooooom! Your robots’re _shit_. I coul’ build’m better’n my sleep.”

_Trouble at SI_. The words repeated over and over in his head, until Steve’s heart was pounding and his blood running cold. _Trouble at SI_. There had been trouble where _Tony_ was, trouble enough that Iron Man hadn’t been able to respond to his call, trouble enough that the idiot was clearly compromised, and _fuck_. Was Tony alright? Was Tony hurt? Was Tony – no. He couldn’t think of that right now, he told himself resolutely. They had to take care of this, and then… and then he could deal with whatever ‘ _trouble at SI_ ’ meant. Adrenaline and panic surged beneath his skin; the serum helped him channel it productively. Between that (hell, he hoped Hawkeye got tired of calling him ‘mini Hulk’ soon) and the arrival of Iron Man, the tide of the battle turned quickly. Doom gave a sigh of irritation – and the lack of yelling and cursing their names really solidified that this had only been a halfhearted attack at best – and vanished when he only had five robots left in the fight. Iron Man was being worryingly silent and unsteady on his feet – he kept to the ground instead of darting to and fro in the air, which Steve found mildly terrifying, and more telling than just about anything else.

When it was finally over, he wanted to demand answers, wanted to sit Iron Man down and have him looked over; he wanted to know that Iron Man and Tony were both okay. But before he could get a single word out of his mouth, Iron Man took to the air, leaving the rest of them behind. That wasn’t exactly abnormal – when on the clock with Tony, he regularly skipped out on the initial cleanup. What was abnormal was the way he didn’t check on anyone else, his continued silence, and the way he wobbled and wavered in the air as he flew toward Avengers tower.

By a unanimous vote among the team, Steve only remained long enough to get Hawkeye to Dr. Banner before running off in that direction as well.

~.~.~

By the time he got to the workshop, fatigue was setting in and all but the worst of his wounds had scabbed over. He knew he looked a mess, but there was no fucking way he wasn’t going right to where Tony (probably, maybe, hopefully) was. Steve had been calling him repeatedly since he’d left the scene of the fight, alternating each with a call to Iron Man. Neither of them were picking up, and he’d even tried to direct a call to Ms. Potts – when the formidable woman failed to answer as well, Steve was sure that something terrible had happened. In his panic, he didn’t even think to ask JARVIS if his creator was alright; he just hopped right into the elevator and pressed the number for the appropriate floor.

Honestly, it was a testament to Tony’s craftsmanship that he didn’t crush the number pad under his finger as he punched his code in; distantly, he was surprised the scanner that he slammed his palm against didn’t crack, and instead simply performed its duty. The doors slid open, and Steve paused just long enough to take a deep breath and square his shoulders before charging in. He could feel every limb trembling, knew his fingers were shaking and that his eyes probably looked wild, but he couldn’t help it. _Trouble at SI_ could mean so many things, but Iron Man had been acting odd, and no one was answering their phones, and Tony could be… could be…

Tony Stark was sitting on a workbench a few feet in front of him, swearing quietly as DUM-E (who’d Steve met a week ago and would NOT trust with anything harder than sweeping the floor) dabbed at a cut that was leaking blood into his left eye. That eye was also puffed up, swollen, and would probably turn black and blue soon. His right arm was already in a sling, and there was a rip and a bloodstain in his sweaty, mussed up business suit that ran down the length of his left thigh. Steve stopped cold, fear and anger and guilt and _relief_ flooding his system and absolutely paralyzing him. Tony was hurt, and speaking in the same slur that Iron Man had; Tony was sitting right there, and was NOT dead or in the hospital.

Tony was alive, hurt, and bitching at his bots.

Steve didn’t remember making the decision to run over to the billionaire genius, but he must have because he was standing right in front of the man less than a heartbeat later. He meant to ask questions, meant to take the cloth from DUM-E and clean out the idiot’s wounds himself. Maybe he even meant to demand Tony tell him who had done this and why Iron Man hadn’t _protected_ him. What actually happened was that he reached out with one trembling hand and stroked shaking fingers down Tony’s cheek as they stared at each other, Tony’s mouth hanging open.

Then, before he could get a handle on his emotions, he had Tony wrapped up in a tight hug, his nose buried in messy black hair and his heart pounding in abject fear that was slow to give way to complete relief. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he managed to grit out, fingers reflexively twisting in Tony’s suit jacket. “I thought… I was afraid… fuck.” The man he was holding – squishing, maybe even crushing – had gone stiff initially, but now almost melted against him. When Tony tucked his face against Steve’s neck, he couldn’t help but smile despite the situation. “You didn’t answer your phone,” he rumbled, voice sounding rough and almost broken to his own ears. “Iron Man said… and then you didn’t…”

“Heeeey, s’rry Stevie-kins. Talking… not s’good right now.” A moment after his answer, Tony began to stroke his hands up and down Steve’s back, probably in an attempt to comfort him. “’M fine, kay Steve? Steeeeeeve. Muffin. Apple ‘f m’eye. S’okay. All good. Stan’ down soldier.”

Almost against his will, Steve relaxed at those words, much of his tension draining away. Sure, Tony was hurt and talking funny, but he was okay… and calling him things that may have had him blushing just a bit. He let himself hold on to the man in his arms for just a minute longer, breathing him in and letting his body come to the realization that Tony was alive and breathing and with him. Finally though, he forced himself to let go and step back, reaching out to DUM-E and gently taking the cleaning cloth from him. “Good boy. Thanks for taking care of him for me,” he murmured, smiling gently when the ‘bot beeped almost bashfully in response. He thought that maybe Tony was blushing a bit as well, but that might have just been a side-effect from whatever was impairing his speech. “JARVIS? What happened?”

“Could tell you,” came a sulky mutter, making Steve roll his eyes.

“You said talking isn’t good right now, so let JARVIS talk while I finish patching you up, okay?”

“Mmm-kay.”

“JARVIS?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers. Would you like a detailed report of the meeting that happened before the attack, or…?”

“No, JARVIS. I mean, that’s not really my business. Just the stuff about… about the attack, please.”

“Very well. As it is unclear if the company sir was meeting with was in any way involved, I shall refrain from giving you their name; I do believe you may be… intemperate with such information.”

“Good call.” Because yeah, Captain America could be patient, and would be able to make sure he had all the information before he went after anyone. Steve Rogers was absolutely itching for payback, and if a few eggs got broken on the way to getting to the truth, well. That was life.

“Quite. After the meeting, there was a luncheon planned, and Sir attended with Iron Man, Ms. Potts and several board members from both companies. I believe there was something in the drinks they were served, but I have been unable to prove such; I cannot trace whatever it was they were drugged with.”

“… drugged?” Steve knew his voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, his fear and horror clear. As he carefully smoothed a bandage over the wound on Tony’s brow, the man reached up to wrap slender fingers around his wrist and give a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes. Among those affected were Sir, Ms. Potts, Iron Man-” Though the list continued, Steve could hardly hear it over the roaring in his ears. Iron Man had been drugged. _Iron Man had been **drugged**_. He’d been drugged along with his boss – who was also injured in other ways – and he’d still answered the fucking call that the Avengers had sent out. His Shellhead was-

Tony squeezed his wrist again, bringing Steve back to the present. He took a deep breath, then bent down to press his forehead lightly to Tony’s, trying to ground his emotions. They were in an uproar, and he just couldn’t get them to settle. He shouldn’t be doing this – shouldn’t be touching Tony when he was too compromised to stop him, or let him know his advances were unwelcome. But God, he’d been drugged and hurt, and his Shellhead had been drugged and unable to _stop_ Tony from being hurt, and shit, he had to pull himself together. “Is Shellhead… Are he and Ms. Potts somewhere safe?”

“Indeed. Iron Man is resting in his suite here in the tower, and Ms. Potts is under guard at her own home – she insisted she did not need any medical treatment if Sir was not receiving any either. The others affected are under the care of medical personnel; thus far, whatever drug was used seems to do nothing more harmful than cause confusion and otherwise fog the mind.”

“That’s… something I suppose. Tony, has anyone looked at that cut on your leg yet?”

“No. W’s gonna have But’fing’rs sew it up.”

“Butterfingers is not giving you sutures.”

“Dun got nobody else,” Tony whined, pouting at him with glassy eyes. “DUM does blood, ‘Fin’ners does sewing.” The fact that he had a _system_ was almost as terrifying as the system itself; how often did he hurt himself engineering?

“Maybe, but I’m here now. So how about I take care of it this time?”

“… yeah? You’ll… t’ke care-a me?”

“Always.”

“Kay.” Without hesitating even a second longer, Tony stood up and began to clumsily paw at his belt in an attempt to unbuckle it. For a moment, Steve could only stare with wide eyes and bright-red cheeks, embarrassment and mortification freezing him. Why was… why was Tony getting _undressed_? He could have… he could have just… just pushed the fabric aside, or… or… or anything that didn’t involve Tony dropping his goddamn trousers in front of him! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! 

Embarrassment gave way to compassion when he realized that Tony just couldn’t get his belt buckle to work, and that he was listing on his feet in much the same way Iron Man had been. Sighing softly, he reached out and pushed Tony’s hands away, unbuckling the thing himself. “So… so the drinks at the luncheon were drugged. Then what JARVIS?” he asked, desperate to have something to focus on other than the way he was _undoing Tony’s slacks and sliding them over his hips_.

“Of course, Captain. Once those drugged began to show signs, that was when three of the waiters converged on the party and attacked. They are in custody, Captain Rogers, so do stop snarling.” The reprimand stopped the sound he hadn’t even realized he’d been making, and he cleared his throat to ask JARVIS to continue as he guided Tony back to the workbench to sit. “Two went directly for sir, while the last attempted to accost Ms. Potts. Sir ignored the danger to himself and tackled her to the ground – that is when he received the wound you are treating now.”

“They didn’t have guns?” Steve asked absently, frowning as he studied the gash on Tony’s left thigh. It wasn’t actually all that deep, and the bleeding had mostly stopped. He couldn’t help but also notice that Tony’s legs were… well. They were really nice legs, and more muscular than he would have given the genius credit for. If things were a little different, he’d love to run his hands down Tony’s powerful-looking thighs, then trail the tips of his fingers down his calves and rub his feet. He’d very much like to investigate what was under the black silk briefs that clung to Tony’s body perfectly, but… well. This was very definitely NOT the time, so he forced his mind to stay on more important matters. “I don’t think you actually need stitches for this, Tony, so long as you’re careful the next couple days. I’ll clean it up and bandage it, and we should mebbe have Bruce look later, but I think you’re gonna be okay.”

“My scans concur with your assessment, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS agreed, sounding pleased. “And no, the assailants did not carry guns. They were armed with knives, perhaps because they are slightly easier to hide, or because of limited resources on their part. That is unclear. They must have some level of technical intelligence, however, because they were able to briefly stop the Iron Man suit from functioning; between their interference and the drug, Iron Man was unable to engage right away. I am thankful for your insistence that sir learn how to defend himself, Captain. The lessons allowed him to keep himself and Ms. Potts safe until I was able to fix the errors in the Iron Man armor that allowed Iron Man himself to finish the fight. This was not without cost, as you can see, but I am pleased that he managed not to get himself killed.” A shiver born of icy fear skittered down Steve’s spine, but he was careful not to let it cause his hands to shake as he cleaned the dried blood around Tony’s wound.

“I’m… yeah. I’m real pleased ‘bout that myself. More lessons once he’s all healed up, I promise you that.” Turning his attention to the man he was helping, the man he was pretty sure he was in love with, Steve offered a smile he knew trembled on his lips. “You did… you did good Tony. Real good. When Iron Man said there’d been trouble at SI, I thought… I was really afraid. I… I…” Again Tony reached out to him, this time cupping Steve’s cheek in his left hand. Taking a breath, Steve let out a laugh that was maybe a little wet, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut. In a move born of relief and stupidity, he turned his head enough to brush his lips over Tony’s palm in a soft kiss and ignored the sharp inhale of breath that caused in the other man. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“’M fine Steve.” Tony told him, sounding even more dazed than he had before. “Jus’fine. Promise. You kay?”

“I’m good. A little bruised from the fight with Doom, but nothing a long, hot shower won’t fix. You’re just about fixed yourself, except for the drug. You still don’t know what it is, JARVIS?”

“No.” And damn, the AI sounded peeved about that. “I have samples of sir’s blood, and the blood of several others affected along with samples of the drinks. When Dr. Banner returns home, I hope that he will be willing to help me unravel the mystery.”

“Of course he will. For now I’m guessing Tony should just rest?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“Tony? Do you want to go up to the penthouse?”

“Nooo. Too far.”

“I would carry you, Tony, and we’d take the elevator. You wouldn’t have to walk at all, and it wouldn’t take very long.”

“No. Wanna stay here. Wi’ Dum and ‘Fin’ners and U. Keep m’safe. You gotta… gotta… the team. Doom. You gotta handle that.”

“Tony, you are just as important as the rest of the team. I can take you up to the penthouse and even stay there with you, if that’s what you wanted. But if you want to stay down here with the ‘bots…” Tony began to nod vigorously enough that the motion almost tipped him over; Steve caught him with an arm around the waist and then let the man rest against him. “Easy there, tiger. If this is where you feel safest, you can rest here.” After all, the couch he had in one corner of the room was pretty big and plenty comfortable; if Tony felt safe and protected, he’d rest easier. “JARVIS, you’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“And you’ll make sure he _rests_ instead of trying to work?”

The silence that followed the question was both chilling and pointed, making Steve wince.

“Right. Of course. You’ve been taking care of him for… well. Sorry JARVIS. I just… um. Okay. Let’s get you to the couch, Tony.”

“Dun wanna walk.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Carefully, treating Tony like the precious treasure that he was, Steve took the man into his arms in a princess-style hold. The three ‘bots immediately zoomed over, hovering and beeping in concern as he carried the man to the couch. Tony was grinning, not that Steve could see it – not with Tony’s face tucked into the crook of his neck again. But he could _feel_ the grin against his skin, and it was… it was pretty awesome. It was everything, actually, and it only sucked that it had happened because Tony was hurt and high, not because… not because he really wanted it. Once he’d crossed the room, he eased Tony onto the couch; once he was settled, he knelt beside it and ran his hands through that wonderfully messy hair. “Do you need anything? I want to check on Iron Man, but if you need anything before I go-”

“No. ‘M good. Go on.” Steve hesitated, biting his lower lip, then gave a reluctant nod and started to stand. Before he got all the way to his feet though, Tony reached out and grabbed the front of his uniform, the star wrinkling under his calloused fingers. “Steve? Th’ks. Yer great. My hero. Mine.” With that, he fell back onto the couch, grinning up at Steve like a loon… an expression he was pretty sure was mirrored on his own pink face.

“Yeah, yours.” Was it good that Tony probably wouldn’t remember this or ever speak of it again, or was that just the icing on this shit cake? Steve really wasn’t sure. “Rest up, Tony. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Leaving him behind to head for the elevator was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He only managed it at all because he knew that JARVIS was monitoring his creator very closely; if Tony needed anything, or if his state worsened even the slightest bit, the AI would be all over it. He’d take care of the genius, and the ‘bots were there as well. As much as Steve wanted to linger… he really did also want to check on Iron Man, and… and Tony hadn’t asked him to stay either. So he’d go.

Besides, after checking on his Shellhead and taking a shower, he fully intended to find out where the attackers were being held. They and whoever they were working for were about to learn a painful lesson on why attacking people Steve Rogers loved was a very, _very_ bad idea.

~.~.~

“… Captain Rogers?”

“Yeah JARVIS?”

“I… understand the urge to check on Iron Man, but… well. If at all possible…” Only Tony was capable of making an AI that _dithered_.

“What’s wrong, JARVIS?”

“Iron Man is currently out of his armor, resting. A visit from you would require he don it once more, and I don’t think-”

“No, no. I… I understand.” Sort of, anyway. It would always hurt that Iron Man wasn’t willing to tell Steve who he was, but… well. It was a hurt he’d grown accustomed to, like the one that happened when he thought of Peggy’s bright red lips or Bucky’s reckless smile. It was a hurt that was part of him, and just… part of his life. “Is he awake?”

“Indeed.” Steve could hear relief in JARVIS’ voice, and he wondered (again) just how much the AI could actually feel. “Would speaking to him put your mind at ease? I can arrange that much.”

“It’s not as good as seeing him, but… well. You’re right. He shouldn’t have to put the armor on again just so I can fuss over him in person. Can you take me to my floor and connect us once I get there?”

“Of course, Captain. Thank you for being so understanding.” Silence reigned for the rest of the short ride; as soon as the door opened onto his floor, Steve stepped off and began stripping out of his uniform. Absently, as JARVIS informed him he was ‘making the call’, he made a note to go pick up his gloves from Tony’s workshop later. “I have him, Captain Rogers, if you’re ready to speak.”

“Thanks JARVIS,” he murmured, then licked his lips and cleared his throat, wondering what exactly he could _say_. Things had been so tense between them, but Steve had been so worried when Iron Man didn’t answer his call, not even just to say he was busy doing something for Tony. And now he knew his friend had been drugged, and he was still so worried about him… but they’d been fighting, and…

“Shellhead?” His voice was strained and sounded a little wet, like he was on the verge of crying; Steve wasn’t all that surprised to find out that was true.

“Wing’ead.” Steve felt his knees go a bit weak in relief on hearing that modulated voice, and even though he was half-in, half-out of the trousers of his uniform, he sat heavily on his bed. “You okay? Di’n’t stick ‘round af’er… had to…” 

“I know. You had to get home. I’m fine, Shellhead, honest. I’m more worried about _you_. How are you feeling?”

“’M fine. Sleepy. Foggy. Fine. Mr. Stark? You… you check on’im? Thought you would.”

“Yeah, I did. He’s… he’s okay. I don’t think he lost too much blood, and he’s resting now. But you… you’re really okay? God, Shellhead, you should have _told me_ you were… you didn’t have to help us with Doom.”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

“Did. An’ was easy. He wa’n’t even tryin’.”

“He definitely wasn’t. And look, Shellhead… I like fightin’ with ya, okay ya punk? But I need ta know when yer hurt, or… you just gotta tell me. ‘M glad ya showed up, but…”

“S’rry Cap.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be safe.”

“Yessir. … you… you callin’ me Shellhead ‘gain?”

“… yeah.” 

“’Cause’m hurt?”

“’Cause I miss you, and with our line of work we could be dead tomorrow. Today just… sorta reminded me of that. Don’t wanna fight with you no more. It’s a stupid fight, and… and I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if you went down thinkin’ we weren’t friends anymore. If I go down, I don’t want you spendin’ the rest of your life thinkin’ I died hatin’ you. So… fight over?”

“Never wanted to fight you, Wing’ead. So yeah. Le’s not no more.”

“Deal.”

“Mr. Stark… he likes you too.”

“Hey, don’t… don’t worry ‘bout that right now, kay? Just rest and get better.”

“No. Gotta… gotta say it. He likes you, an’you like him. Got jealous.”

“… jealous?” Shit, he should be shutting this conversation down, not asking questions! Iron Man was _clearly_ compromised, and he needed to stop the man talking _now_. He didn’t need to find out about Iron Man and Tony Stark’s possible romantic relationship like this!

“You’re… m’friend. Only one. So if… if you’n he… was afraid. You’d wanna be with him, ‘n I’d lose my friend.” Warm affection blossomed in his heart, and Steve wished they were in the same room so he could hug the idiot – even if he wouldn’t feel it through the armor.

“You fuckin’ moron.”

“Language.”

“That’s not funny anymore, ya know.”

“Is.”

“Whatever. You’re not losing me, you idiot. You’re… you’re my best friend, Shellhead. You won’t lose me, not ever. Not even if Tony decided to give my sorry ass a chance – we’d still be you’n me. … to the end of the line, kay Shellhead?” It… hurt, that phrase, sent up a hollow ache in his heart because God, he missed Bucky like he would a limb, but… but it felt right too. It felt right, natural even, to offer Iron Man the same loyalty he’d given Bucky. The idiot had earned it, and if they’d been able to meet he was pretty sure his best friend from the forties would get along just fine with his best friend from this time. So even if it hurt, it was absolutely worth it.

“Yeah? End ‘f th’line?”

“Yeah. To the end of the line. So get some sleep, okay? And… and maybe tomorrow we could hang out?”

“Yeah. Sounds… sounds good Wing’ead. …night.”

“Night Shellhead. Sweet dreams.” There wasn’t an answer, but he wasn’t really expecting one; even though his voice had been modulated, the man sounded _exhausted_. He needed his sleep, and Steve really needed a shower. After that, there was a whole laundry list of things he needed to do – check in on Hawkeye, go visit the men who’d hurt Tony to get some answers, help with the cleanup from the fight with Doom, _kill_ whoever hurt his Shellhead and his Tony, check in with Bruce about an antidote for the drug. There was still a lot on his plate, and for a moment he bowed under the weight of it all, putting his face in his hands.

God, Tony had been hurt, and his Shellhead had been drugged… but they were both fine, he reminded himself firmly. They were both fine, and safe in the tower. They’d rest and be right as rain in the morning hopefully, if not sooner. He and the rest of the team would figure out who’d hurt them, and they’d Avenge both Tony and Shellhead with gusto. And he’d made up with his Shellhead, and Tony had said Steve was _his_ , and even if all of that had happened in a drugged out haze… well. It had still happened. It the pair of ‘em forgot, well… well. He’d remind Iron Man, then just keep doing what he’d been doing with Tony.

He had his best friend back, and maybe his crush wasn’t as hopeless as he’d been sure it was.

All in all, it had been a pretty good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a note - for this fic, I imagine that Tony has had Rhodey, Pepper and Happy all take turns being in the suit when he AND Iron Man need to show up. But he's been working on the Iron Legion, and so now he has suits with limited AI to show up when he can't be in the armor himself. These suits are pretty capable of doing just about anything Tony can do in them - even drink! Of course, the drinks are filtered and stored instead of consumed, but still. So yeah - Iron Man was 'hit' with the same drug, but it was mostly a technical failure here that kept the suit from acting the way it should.
> 
> Tony is a dummy for going to fight Doom Bots while drugged and injured, and Steve is a dummy for not connecting the dots.
> 
> I love my dummies.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! I accept prompts. <3


	8. Late Night Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is filler and unapologetic fluff - not sorry for either. XD It was what I needed to write after a lonely birthday and crappy couple of days following it. 'Real' and more substantial chapters in some of my other stuff is forthcoming in the next couple of days, along with the next bit of plot for this fic. 
> 
> Comment, even though I've been crap at replying lately? <33

Steve was no stranger to nightmares – hell, for the first few months after waking, he’d had one every time he closed his eyes. They’d tapered off after moving to the tower and connecting with his new team, but they were still a regular occurrence in his life. Watching Bucky fall was the most common, but there were also haunting dreams of Peggy and the other Howlies, or he’d be crashing the plane again and the ice would come for him. Recently, a new one had been added to the mix – losing _another_ 70 years and waking up to find himself all alone all over again. It was, in some ways, the worst nightmare except for the ones about Buck.

Every single nightmare he’d ever faced paled in comparison to the one that had ripped him from his slumber that night.

Watching his Shellhead be shot out of the sky was even more chilling than having to see Bucky fall. Maybe it was because he knew in his heart that it could happen – they led such dangerous lives. Buck was already gone and he had to live with that, but his Shellhead was someone he could still lose. To have his brain follow that horror up with forcing him to see a nightmare vision of the attack on Tony only compounded his terror. No matter how he tried, he hadn’t been able to get to the man, couldn’t stop what was happening. Steve’d seen the light glinting off the knife one attacker was using, saw it plunging down toward Tony’s chest.

When it cut through flesh and bone to pierce his heart, they’d screamed in tandem. It was as painful as if he’d been the one to be stabbed, and all he had wanted was to get to Tony, to hold him and try to stop the bleeding. God, he’d just wanted to tell the man how he felt before… but no matter how he’d fought, no matter how hard he’d tried, he _couldn’t get to Tony_.

He woke up shouting Tony’s name, skin drenched in a cold sweat. Heart pounding and breath coming quick, Steve didn’t even try to go back to sleep. After he was out of bed, he threw on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt – he could feel the ice starting to creep over him. Once, he’d have headed right to the gym and taken the fear still thrumming in his veins out on some punching bags and his hands. Now… now on getting into the elevator, he had JARVIS take him to the common floor.

There wasn’t much chance of running into his Shellhead, what with everything that had happened, but he could still make himself some hot chocolate and put on a movie.

When the elevator doors opened, he heard the heat kick on – it was almost enough to make him smile as he headed for the common kitchen. The open floor plan of this floor meant that the AI flicked on not only those lights, but also illuminated the area with the TV with a soft glow so he could see. “Thanks JARVIS.”

“Not a problem, Captain.” Some of the others would bitch when they got up in the morning and this whole floor was about 95 degrees, but Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “Shall a queue up a movie for you?”

“Yeah. Where are Shellhead’n me on the list?”

“‘Finding Nemo’. If I may, however, you may not wish to watch that particular feature tonight. Several of the tower’s residents have indicated that they find it mildly distressing, especially in the beginning. You may enjoy it more another time, with some company.” It was hard for him not to feel affection for the AI. He looked after everyone, sure, but Steve sort of felt like JARVIS took a special interest in trying to make sure he was okay. It was nice, having someone look out for him – somehow, that ‘someone’ being an AI created by Tony Stark only made the whole thing better.

“Thanks for the warning. Could you get ‘The Aristocats’ ready for me instead?” The others found it hilarious, but he really liked that one. After all, the music was fun, there weren’t too many sad bits, and the idea of a rich cat falling in love with a scrappy alley cat appealed to him on a few different levels. So with no Shellhead to keep him company and visions of his best friend and the man he wanted to be his best guy dying in his mind’s eye, it was the best choice.

“of course, Captain. Would you like a cartoon beforehand as well?” God, he loved JARVIS.

“Could… could you turn one of those on now? With the volume up? I could use the noise while I finish up the hot chocolate.”

“Excellent idea.” There was warmth in JARVIS’ voice, computer program or no, and no one could tell him otherwise. The TV turned on, and the familiar, comforting cartoon the AI had picked meant that Steve’s tension slowly began to ease. “Although I believe I know the answer, would you like me to wake on of the other Avengers?” A question asked if no one was already up, and always answered the same way.

“No, JARVIS, I’m fine.” Sure, he was shivering a little, and yeah, maybe he couldn’t stop seeing Tony and his Shellhead die while he looked on helplessly, but he was fine. It was better not to bother anyone else – they needed what little sleep they got. “But, uh…” Steve felt a blush crawl over his cheeks, nd he was very, very careful to keep his eyes on the saucepan where he was heating the chocolate, sugar and milk. “Tony and Shellhead… they’re… they’re both okay, right? No new side effects or anything? They’re alright?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. Both Sir and Iron Man are fine, I promise you.” A bit of relief coursed through him, though it would be better if he’d allow himself to actually check on both men.

“Good. Okay. That’s… that’s good. Thanks JARVIS.”

“It is ever a pleasure to serve, Captain. Please let me know if you require anything else.”

Silence fell between them, but not over the whole floor, thank goodness – the happy sounds of the cartoon JARVIS had put on prevented that. It wasn’t until he got out his mug and filled it that he realized he’d made enough for two – habit. But Shellhead had ben drugged and needed his sleep – this wasn’t one of the nights where they would meet up and have a heart-to-heart. He wouldn’t be there to talk Steve through this, to make him smile. He only hoped his friend wasn’t having one of _his_ bad nights, where he needed Steve to help him forget about the wormhole and hostile aliens and dying alone in the complete silence of space.

Still, he emptied the extra into a second mug and put it in the microwave to sit – he could heat it up later if he wanted more. It would save him the extra effort of making another batch at best, and at worst he’d just dump it out with no harm done. By the time he settled on the couch, the ‘feature’ movie was starting. For a while, Steve allowed himself to be absorbed by color, sound, and a simple, heartwarming story.

~.~.~

It was as Edgar was being chased by the two dogs, leaving Duchess and her poor kittens abandoned in the countryside, that Steve heard the sounds of someone approaching. He looked up with a joke on his lips, fully expecting Clint or Nat to be joining him… only to have his whole world come to a stop when he met sleepy brown eyes. It was _Tony_ , limping just a little, now in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. There were lines from his pillowcase pressed into one cheek, and his hair was flat on that side while the other side was sticking up every which way. He was adorable, obviously still half asleep, and Steve’s heart absolutely ached at the sight of him.

“Tony…” It was supposed to be a greeting, but the genius’ name came out as a breathless prayer. His part in the nightmare hit Steve full-force again, and all he wanted to do was wrap the man up in his arms so he could prove to himself that Tony was alive and safe. Since he’d already done exactly that several hours ago, he managed to refrain so the man didn’t think he was crazy.

“Steeeeeve. Gimme coffee.” Tony demanded, making grabby-hands at his mug. Of course, he couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face at the adorable plea, even as he shook his head.

“No coffee – it’s too late for caffeine. Do you want some hot chocolate instead?”

“Please.”

“Sit down then, and I’ll be right back with some for you.” That extra mug he’d made was a boon after all, ensuring he had something to offer the other man, thank God. He expected Tony to sit in one of the armchairs or maybe sprawl out on one of the other couches that was empty, but instead he flopped down next to Steve, giving him a sleepy sort of smile. The expression and his nearness made it a lot harder to actually get up and do what he’d said he would, but after staring (only a little slack jawed) for a second or two, he managed. As he pushed himself to his feet, he noticed that JARVIS had paused the movie without even being asked – the AI really was a good man, even if he wasn’t a ‘real’ one. After he got Tony’s drink to warming up in the microwave, he washed out his own empty mug, butterflies winging around in his stomach. He ought to be giving himself a pep talk and a battle plan, but that was far too much for his giddy mind to wrap itself around.

Tony was here. Tony was awake, and seemed mostly fine except for the limp and that bandage, and they were going to sit on the couch and watch movies together. Him and Tony. _Together_.

“ _... he likes you too,_ ” Shellhead had told him.

Steve was in no way prepared to deal with this.

Prepared or not though, it was happening, and he could only hope for the best and try not to embarrass himself. All the moving around had reminded him of the cold, despite the fact that he _knew_ the room was warm – his brain was a tricky beast when it came to tormenting him. Holding the steaming mug somehow made it worse, because he should be able to feel the heat, but he just… didn’t, and it sucked. That was the worst part of waking up from his nightmares, really, the way the cold just wouldn’t let him alone, the ice dogging his every step. When he returned to the couch to find that Tony had magicked up a blanket from somewhere (though he’d prefer to say ‘scienced’, probably), the part of Steve that felt icy water lapping at his feet wanted to turn this into a trade. A blanket for the hot chocolate – that was fair, and it would only be until he’d stopped shivering again.

“Here you go,” he forced himself to say instead, managing a tiny smile. When Tony grabbed the mug, he took his spot again, unable to repress a violent shiver as he did – he hated when was away long enough for his designated seat to grow cold. After a moment, he brought his feet up, tucking them under his body in a vain attempt to speed the warming process up; it wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t just do nothing. The movie started up again, and Steve was sure that would be that – they’d sit and watch in silence, and in a few minutes he’d feel almost warm again as long as he stayed lost in the story of Duchess and O’Malley.

Tony, though, had a longstanding habit of surprising him.

Steve froze when Tony scooted closer to him on the couch, close enough to breath him in, close enough that Steve could touch him if he dared… and then they were. The genius was suddenly pressed against his side, and he was trying to wrap the blanket around the pair of them one-handed – Steve was vaguely worried they’d only end up with hot chocolate all over them despite Tony’s best efforts. Maybe he should be helping, but he was stuck, mind blank and heart racing, with no idea of what to actually do, so he just let Tony’s fumbling attempts continue. JARVIS saved him again – though the AI didn’t actually have a throat to clear, he made a sound similar to just that, and it snapped Steve out of his own mind.

Moving carefully, because he’d never forgive himself if he spooked the other man and he left, Steve took the blanket from him. Able to use two hands, it was the work of less than a few seconds to wrap the fluffy bit of warmth around them. They were sitting so _close_ , and Steve was already in heaven. God, to have Tony choose to sit with him like this, sharing body heat beneath a blanket… it just wasn’t something he’d ever pictured happening. This time of night was magic though – it was when the impossible didn’t seem so far out of reach, and it was easier to let one’s guard down. The early morning had allowed him to get close to Iron Man, had turned the other Avenger into his Shellhead; maybe this magic time of day would help him turn Tony into his best guy. It would be a slow process, probably, like it had been with Shellhead. For tonight, this was more than enough – to be in the same space, quiet and soft. He wasn’t going to ruin this.

Not with the selfish desire for _more_ that was running through him, no sir. Steve wasn’t going to put an arm around Tony and cuddle him, or bury his nose in the man’s hair, or press a kiss just above the bandage he’d smoothed over Tony’s hurt earlier. Nope. Nor would he ask what brought the genius to the common floor, a place he usually avoided like the plague – Steve got the distinct impression that Tony didn’t think he _deserved_ to be on the Avengers floor. Now wasn’t the time to pry though, not when he already had more than he’d dared to hope for most days. And he certainly wasn’t going to start whispering about what _he_ was doing up at three in the morning, sharing the burden and lessoning it just a little. Nope. All that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it? They’d only recently decided they were friends, so he had to play this cool – he couldn’t ask for too much too soon, because Tony would bolt. He shouldn’t ask for more than this, and… and…

Steve’s brain short-circuited again when Tony leaned against him even further and settled that dark head of hair on his shoulder. A moment later, he turned just enough to tuck his face against the crook of Steve’s neck. Mary Mother of Christ – he could _feel_ Tony breathing against his skin. It was amazing and perfect, and he didn’t ever want it to end. And if he ever managed another coherent though ever again, it would be a goddamned miracle.

The movie was still playing, still there for Steve to lose himself in, but at the moment he didn’t need it – not when he could turn his head to bury his nose in Tony’s hair just like he’d imagined doing. The genius made a soft humming sound that might have been approval, so Steve swallowed hard and gathered his courage. Slowly, so Tony could pull away if he wanted, he inched his arm around the other man; far from leaving, Tony melted and settled his own arm on top of Steve’s stomach. He was still holding onto his hot chocolate, but he seemed to have forgotten it, content to snuggle into Steve and breathe against his neck. Another hard swallow, and Steve carefully took the mug away, setting it onto the end table that was within reach to the right.

It seemed to be the right move, because Tony instantly grabbed hold of his shirt, wriggling a little (and oh, wasn’t that the sweetest kind of torture) until his torso was half-draped over Steve’s, his head now tucked under Steve’s chin.

They were officially cuddling – this was no longer a drill.

He could handle this though, yes he could. There would be no spazzing out or starting to babbly in Brooklynese at the man. He was going to be quiet and pretend to watch the movie, all the while reveling in the _warmth_ that Tony was giving him. Between the blanket and the snuggles, the ice was turning into a distant intrusion, one that couldn’t touch him as long as he had this. It was better and worse than nights with his Shellhead – better for the physical contact, worse for the silence and emotional distance. Maybe it wasn’t everything he wanted with Tony, but it was still perfect and amazing, and he was not going to ruin this. “You’re warm,” he breathed without meaning to, wincing internally at the reverence in his own voice. Shit.

“So’re you,” Tony returned, petting Steve’s abs – holy fuck, that was awesome and awful in equal measure. “Warm like a furnace. Like it.”

“’M glad. I like you being here.” God, he needed to stop talking, or he was going to spill his guts, and that was just… it was a lot of pressure to put on a guy recovering from both an unknown drug and an attack, so he was gonna put a cork in it. Absolutely. “Sometimes after a nightmare the ice-” Jesus fucking Christ, he was shutting up _now_.

“Sometimes I dream about Afghanistan.” Tony’s voice was rougher than he’d ever heard it before, like it was a fight to get even that much out. There was horror too, hidden deep under layers of forced nonchalance; he wasn’t imagining the way Tony burrowed closer either. Without even thinking about it, he began to rub soothing circles over the man’s lower back, other hand delving into messy black hair. He wanted to wrap himself around Tony and protect him from the world, keep him from being hurt anymore. Steve couldn’t let himself think about what might have happened to the genius while he was lost in the desert, not when Shellhead had managed to get him out safe and sound. When he thought about it, thought about what a civilian might go through while being a prisoner of war, what _Tony_ might have suffered at the hands of terrorists, he tended to start destroying things.

Right now he just wanted to hold the other man, so he wouldn’t let himself think about it.

He wouldn’t make Tony think about it either.

“Ever see this’un?” Steve asked, directing Tony’s attention gently to the TV. “No ice, no sand – just singin’ cats.”

“… haven’t, actually. Missed this one somehow.”

“JARVIS? Start it from the beginning?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Hush’n watch the movie, Tony. Next one’s your pick. Nothin’ too sad or complicated though. Shellhead’n me gotta list goin’, if you wanna choose off that.”

“I think I can manage. This one first though.”

“Well yeah. You’re gonna love Duchess’n O’Malley, promise. Kittens’re cute too. Gonna be singin’ the songs tomorrow, betcha bottom dollar.”

“Just for that, next is ‘Annie’.”

“Okay Tony.”

“And you’re gonna make me pancakes for breakfast.”

“Okay Tony.”

“And coffee. I know you don’t like giving me coffee for some reason, but I demand coffee.”

“… we’ll see. Now shush – it’s starting.”

Maybe ‘Annie’ did get put on afterward, and maybe Tony was awake to watch it, but Steve certainly wasn’t. He dropped off before Scat Cat came on, wrapped up around Tony and truly _warm_ for the first time in 70 years.


	9. Waking and Debriefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to update some of my other stuff... but I think I _finally_ have a clear path toward resolving and ending this story. So hopefully by this weekend or early next week I'll have this one completed! Current goal is to try and finish all my incomplete fics by the end of the month. I believe in me! XD My writing schedule is too erratic and impulsive for a beta, so all mistakes are mine - if you notice any, point them out so I can fix 'em!
> 
> Thanks so much for all your kind comments last time, and for reading!
> 
> Please give me more comments? <3 I will love you forever. <3

When he woke again, it was to a series of sensations that grew progressively more interesting. The scent of coffee in his nose barely earned a twitch, though the hint of bacon that joined it was more promising. The tickle of hair against his chin wasn’t something that should be there – it was as confusing as the weight draped over him. There was something hard digging into his chest, something metal maybe, and though it didn’t quite hurt it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling on the planet. Not like the warm, smooth skin against his palms or the warm, damp breaths moving over his neck. Both of those were great, and they felt sort of _right_ even if Steve was vaguely aware that they weren’t usually present in the morning.

The weight against him shifted like it was about to leave, and he murmured a protest, tightening his hold with one arm. “S’ry,” was whispered against his skin, followed by what felt like a clumsy kiss. That was nice, so he rewarded the effort by pressing a kiss of his own to the tousled head of hair tucked under his chin. The wriggle that came next was _very_ nice, so it only made sense to let one hand caress down over that warm expanse of skin. Down and down, until his hand slipped underneath the waistband of a pair of sweatpants – that hadn’t been his intention, exactly, but he got another encouraging wriggle and a hum of pleasure. That meant he really had no choice but to give the delightfully firm flesh under his hand a squeeze-

“Woah… Cap’s got game when he’s asleep.”

The amused voice snapped him out of the warm, comfortable headspace he’d been in – he couldn’t place who it belonged to, which had alarm bells ringing in his head. In fact, every instinct he had began screaming ‘intrusion’ and ‘danger’ and ‘protect’; before he was even fully awake, he flipped over, bringing the smaller man he’d been cuddling beneath him. That meant Steve could cover him almost completely, shielding him from any incoming fire. No way in **hell** would he let anyone hurt his guy – whoever had burst into his room had a nasty surprise coming. Turning his head toward the source of the voice, he bared his teeth at the intruder…

And found himself staring at Clint, who was doubled over in laughter. “The fuck?” he managed, trying to blink the sleep and confusion away. This wasn’t his room – was he on the couch? What the hell was going on?

“Steve… you swear?” That was Tony, sounding as bewildered as he felt. Tony, who was pinned beneath him, arms still wrapped around Steve’s waist. Tony, whose _ass he had just grabbed in full view of anyone in the common room_. Holy fucking shit.

Pulling away and running would have been the safest bet probably, but Steve was frozen in combined horror and lingering arousal at the way he’d woken up. The night before came flooding back, relieving his confusion but doing nothing for the shame burning through him. He’d been touching Tony _intimately_ without his permission. He’d done it in front of other people. Then he’d spazzed and made things even _weirder_ , and-

“Sorry Steve,” Nat murmured from somewhere above him, running her fingers through his hair. “I kept him away as long as I could, but he got hungry and escaped into the vents.”

“Uh… it’s… fine?”

“Steve, _breathe_.” She suggested as she walked away, laughter in her voice now. Clint was still snorting and guffawing with mirth, damn him – if he didn’t stop son, there would be a vicious training session in his future. And Tony… Tony was still lying underneath him. What was more, Steve still had his hand wrapped possessively around one bare hip – how the fuck had he not realized that sooner, he wondered hysterically. When he chanced a glance down, fully intending to remove the offending appendage, he was confronted with the fact that Tony’s shirt had rucked up, baring his abs to Steve’s hungry gaze.

Oh God, he was going to hell.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes up Tony’s body, trying to prepare himself for the fury that was sure to be on the man’s face. Tony was going to hate him for taking such liberties – Jesus, his left palm still tingled with the remembered handful he’d gotten. This was going to ruin the friendship they’d been building, let alone anything more, because Tony _had_ to be spitting mad.

But when Steve got to the man’s face, he was in for a pleasant surprise. Tony’s expression was still sleep-soft and open, with none of the hostility he’d been expecting. In fact, there was a hint of a _smile_ on the man’s lips that had Steve aching to taste them. Okay, maybe this was still fine. Maybe it wasn’t a complete disaster. It was fine. He could handle this.

“Jeeze, Cap – you look like you want to eat him. Save it for the bedroom, please, for the rest of our sakes. I don’t need to see shit like this before breakfast.”

“Excuse me,” he told Tony seriously, liking the way the man grinned as Steve’s hand left his hip and delved under his body. Clint started to make a lewd remark that Steve ignored – he was too busy staring into Tony’s eyes. When he found what he was looking for, he took it in a firm grip… and then sent the aptly named throw pillow soaring through the air. He looked up in time to watch it nail Clint in the face, and smug satisfaction filled him.

“Niiice,” Tony told him, which only made his chest puff out a little further. He was about to answer when the pillow came flying back, only it was aimed at _Tony_ , not him – unacceptable, at least in his eyes. Steve batted it out of the air with a snarl, then turned a glare on Clint. Bastard looked unbearably smug, which meant that he’d definitely chosen the target on purpose.

“Aww, look at Stevie, protecting the princess… adorable.” Clint was clearly in one of his ‘I’m a little shit’ moods, likely because he’d been confined to his bed after the fight yesterday. He’d have extra energy to burn, and that needed to be addressed as soon as possible; where Steve knew he was kidding, Tony might not understand that. Steve needed to get this situation under control at least a little, or he had no doubt the genius would head for the hills. Putting on an exaggerated look of irritation, he directed he gaze back to Tony and let out a very dramatic sigh – some of the man’s tension eased as he realized this was a game.

“I feel like he’s trying to insult your honor. Do you feel insulted?”

“… little bit?”

“Then I’m off to Avenge you,” Steve told him with a wink. The way Tony blushed almost warranted a change of plan, but Clint started in on another joke; the man needed to be punished. After he sat up – carefully, so he didn’t accidentally crush Tony – he took a fortifying breath. Then, without another word, he launched himself off the couch and at Clint, tackling the archer to the ground.

The wrestling match that followed was less than dignified, but great fun. Steve didn’t use even a fraction of his strength – Clint was still a bit bruised and battered – but the other man wasn’t either. It was just a friendly, fun way to help the other blond get out some of his energy. If he hadn’t picked a fight over Tony, it would have been the music Steve listened to or his ‘grandpa clothes’ or the way he threw his shield. There wasn’t even a winner, though Clint did manage to get him into a headlock – he was still working on getting out of it when a throwing knife sprouted from the floor in front of them. They both froze, looking up at Nat with wide eyes.

“That’s enough, boys.” The woman told them in her cool, unimpressed tones, one arched brow leveled at them. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” They grinned at each other when they spoke in tandem, jostling each other in a show of silent affection as they got up and headed to the table.

Tony was already there, drinking coffee – he shrugged when Steve frowned at the steaming mug. “You were too busy defending my non-existent honor to stop me. Plus I am clearly not getting the pancakes I was promised, so I deserve coffee.”

“Suppose that’s fair enough,” Steve allowed, smiling as he dropped into the seat beside the sleep-tousled genius. “I’ll… I could, uh. Make pancakes tomorrow morning.” He couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of his voice, and he saw Nat smiling behind her own mug. Clint, of course, was pretending to gag. “You could eat here again, with us. For the pancakes.”

“I… you all… wouldn’t mind?” Tony asked, directing a wide-eyed look around the room. Steve bit back the urge to launch into a passionate speech about how the man was _always_ welcome on this floor. He’d said it before, after all, and Tony didn’t seem to believe him. Maybe if he heard it from Clint and Nat, it would start to sink in. “I mean, I try to give you guys space, because you don’t need anyone pestering you, not even me. You’re all heroes, you know, so you deserve space and privacy, and I wanted to make sure that you all feel comfortable here. So I don’t want to intrude. Not tomorrow, and not ever. Am I intruding now? I just… needed some company last night, and J said that Cap… Steve… Cap… he was up, and so I thought… but I don’t want to intrude. This is the floor for the Avengers, and I’m not, you know, a hero like all of you. I shouldn’t bother you. So I don’t need to come tomorrow. I can leave now, actually, if-”

“Shut-up and pass the bacon, Stark.” Clint interrupted – Steve knew him well enough to detect a hint of fondness buried in his tone. Maybe Tony’d managed to catch it too, because some of the tension left his frame and he passed the plate over. He did so without taking some for himself, Steve noted with a frown. He’d have to fix that – the genius needed to eat more, and more regularly. “If you being here means I get pancakes cooked by Steve, you should come eat with us every morning.”

“Pancakes every day would get old.”

“He makes good waffles and eggs benedict too. And man, you gotta try his crepes. Awesome.”

“We have to find a way to make sure he doesn’t ban me from drinking coffee though. He doesn’t like to give me coffee, and I don’t know why. But see, I need coffee, birdbrain. I need coffee like you mere mortals need air.”

“Well _I_ need a balanced breakfast on the regular, so we’ll figure it out.”

As he listened to their nonsense and rolled his eyes, Steve took the plate of bacon away from Clint and dropped several pieces on Tony’s plate before taking half of what was left for himself. Nat dumped most of the eggs on Steve’s plate without needing to be asked, then let him spoon a serving onto Tony’s plate. He blushed under her knowing gaze, ducking his head as he passed the eggs to Clint. The pair were deep enough in their discussion of ways to distract Steve so Tony could get his coffee in the morning that the genius didn’t seem to realize Steve was fixing him his breakfast plate. He managed to sneak a helping of cantaloupe and a piece of toast into the mix as well before Tony looked down and frowned at the magically appearing food.

“Just get a glass of juice or milk to drink too and he won’t nag too much,” Nat told the pair of schemers, again sounding cooly amused. She lifted her own glass of orange juice as evidence; Steve decided that Tony could use dairy instead, since he had a serving of fruit already. So a glass of milk was next to appear at Tony’s elbow – this time he was caught though, and when Tony started to stare, he turned his attention to his own plate. “He just likes the people he cares about to take care of themselves. If you take the initiative to do that, he calms down.”

Tony was still staring, and Steve still refused to return the look – all of them were staring, actually. Under the weight of their attention, he felt his ears start to turn red. His shoulders lifted in a defensive effort to hide them, and he tucked into his food with studied attention. After a minute, he heard the rest of them start to do the same. Though he stayed silent in his embarrassment, both Clint and Nat engaged Tony in conversation. He hoped it would be enough to convince Tony to hang out on the Avengers floor every once in a while.

It was nice, to have them all here with him. He knew Bruce would be having tea and a quiet breakfast of his own – he always needed some time to himself before he braved the group. Thor was safe and happy in Asgard, probably having a feast or hunting bilgesnipe or whatever a god did in his spare time. Steve didn’t particularly like that Iron Man was absent, but surely JARVIS would have let him and Tony know if his best friend was doing any worse or needed any assistance – he was probably still just resting. So everyone he cared about was accounted for and doing as well as any superhero could be expected to be doing. Most of them were even right where he could see them and nag them into eating a little healthier than they would otherwise – that alone made it a good morning. Combined with the way he’d woken up and how Tony wasn’t angry at him, everything was on track to make this a great day.

Until, of course, Clint ruined it by suggesting how Tony could distract him in the mornings. He’d been grinning evilly at Steve as he told the genius he should just make out with Steve – while that was going on, Clint could make him up a cup and sneak it to him. The wrestling match _that_ kicked off was a little less friendly than the one before, and it may or may not have set their benefactor back a few thousand dollars in furniture and knick-knacks. That put a slight damper on Steve’s mood, even if Tony found the whole thing hilarious.

Later, Nat sent him a picture she’d taken on her phone of him and Tony cuddled up on the couch. It was from before they’d started to wake up, before Clint had interrupted them. The smaller man was draped over Steve’s chest, looking younger and softer than he ever did when he was awake. Steve’s hands were splayed over Tony’s bare back – the man’s t-shirt had lifted up practically to his armpits. In return, the sleeping genius had his own hands under Steve’s shirt, and their legs were all tangled together. They looked… like a couple. Like they belonged that way. Even though it was probably a pipe-dream, Steve still felt a warm tendril of hope unfurl in his heart.

JARVIS walked him through how to set the picture as the background image on his cellphone, so he could carry it with him all the time.

Maybe it still could be a great day after all.

~.~.~

“-so we think they meant to kidnap Mr. Stark.”

The table in the Avengers conference room cracked under the force of Steve’s grip, and he yanked his hand back before he did any further damage. Cheeks hot, he cleared his throat and motioned for his Shellhead to continue. Clint was smirking at him while Nat had a long-suffering look on her face. Bruce – the only one who didn’t know about his feelings – was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. After all, Steve prided himself on his control over his strength, so the display was rather out of character. Shellhead only directed a look his way, face mask as bland as ever, then went on.

“It just wasn’t well coordinated enough to be Avengers related, in my opinion. And while Mr. Stark does provide us with funding, he isn’t linked enough with us publically that he’d be first choice of a target anyway – and they were definitely focused on him and Ms. Potts.”

“Corporate related?” Nat asked sharply, sitting forward in her seat. “He’s got quite a few enemies in his field – Hammer’s grudge wasn’t singular.”

“Corporate hit would be… cleaner.” Shellhead rebutted, a bitter and angry twist to his voice that Steve could hear even under the mechanical tones. “Anyway, the drug was meant to confuse and debilitate, not kill, so I think kidnapping is our best bet. The fact that they had knives instead of guns is telling too – harder to kill someone by accident with a knife, and they weren’t the exactly cream of the crop when it comes to henchman. I’m guessing the culprit is some crappy up-and-coming group of wannabe supervillains who think they can take Mr. Stark and bully him into making them weapons. They’re going to be disappointed, even if they do manage to get their hands on him.”

“They aren’t getting _**near**_ him,” Steve vowed, hands clenching into fists again. He wasn’t really surprised by the dark threat laced in his words, but Bruce was giving him a strange look again.

“Well duh,” Clint added in a bored tone, twirling an arrow in his fingers. “He’s ours.” It was one of the first signs of real acceptance he’d shown, and Steve almost wanted to hug him for it. “So how’re we playing this then? Rotations on guard duty? I’m guessing he and JARVIS are chasing down leads, but me’n Nat can put our boots on the ground and see if we can’t get any info off the streets.”

“Uhhh… what? I think Mr. Stark and I have it under control. You don’t have to-”

“Shut it, tin can. You’re his bodyguard, sure, and we won’t step on your toes. But he’s our… Nat? Are we friends with him, you think? Or are we his wards?”

“Clint.”

“No, think about it. We live in his house, and if he gave us any rules we’d have to at least pretend to follow them. He pays for all our stuff and if we get in trouble with the law he’d totally put up the bail money. I think we might be his wards. We finally got us a sugar daddy, Nat, and we didn’t even have to put out for it.”

“Please say all that to Mr. Stark next time you see him, because he’d get a kick out of your little theory. As for the other thing, you all really don’t need to be involved. I’ve got this under control – me, Mr. Stark and JARVIS, I mean.”

“I don’t know, Iron Man. We still haven’t completely decoded the drug that was used yesterday, and even if there don’t seem to be any lingering effects, it makes me nervous. There might be more here than what we can see – I hope you’ll at least let me help in that respect. I know JARVIS isn’t pleased with our lack of progress either.”

“Indeed not, Dr. Banner. I for one would certainly appreciate the extra eyes on Sir. He does tend to get himself into a great deal of trouble with very little effort.”

“JARVIS, stop. Look, this is SI business, not Avengers, alright? I’ve got this – I only agreed to this debriefing at all because it affected my performance on the field. So just-”

“Why don’t you want me to help, Shellhead?” Steve couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice, though he did try. He’d hadn’t meant to make it just about him either, but it had just… slipped out that way. They’d had that disagreement, sure, but they’d agreed not to be fighting anymore. Maybe that didn’t heal all hurts, and maybe they needed to talk a bit more, but he’d thought they were back to being best friends. So if they were best friends again, why wouldn’t Shellhead accept his help? _Especially_ since he knew how Steve felt about Tony. It hurt, even if it shouldn’t.

“Winghead, it isn’t… it’s not that I don’t… look. Mr. Stark doesn’t think all of you should be wasting your time on this.”

“Well you can tell ‘Mr. Stark’ that it isn’t a waste.” There was a pointedness to Nat’s voice that Steve didn’t understand, but he’d have to be blind to miss the way Shellhead went tense in the armor. “And that we’re choosing this. He can either cooperate, or…” She trailed off, and everyone in the room but Bruce shuddered at both her pleasant tone of voice and the smile that graced her lips.

She didn’t need to finish the thought to make her point.

“The Avengers have more important things to be worried about!” Shellhead protested once more, desperation coloring his voice. Steve disagreed almost violently, but held his tongue, unwilling to start another fight just then. They all needed to be on the same side so they could protect Tony. “Like that attack from Doom yesterday-”

“Handled. Richards will be back tomorrow, and Sue promised they’d be on Doom-watch for a while. It was a shitty attack anyway.”

“Clipped your wings though, didn’t it Katniss?”

“Don’t get nasty with me, Iron Man. And please – a few cuts and bruises aren’t enough to keep me down.”

“The concussion wasn’t really anything to sneeze at though. I wish you’d taken that part a bit more seriously.”

“You didn’t tell me about any concussion,” Steve accused, turning his glare on Clint. “Do I have to start getting my injury reports straight from Bruce or medical?”

“Please. It wasn’t important. I’ve been concussed most of my adult life. Bruce, no one likes a tattle-tale, by the way.”

“Hulk’s not really fond of that term.”

“Works better if you don’t _grin_ while you lie. Nat, teach your boy better.”

“Could we _please_ try to focus?” Steve asked, not even trying to hide his exasperation. He loved his team, but they were harder to herd than cats. “Look, Shellhead… we want to help. Tony is… he’s important. To all of us,” he added hurriedly, fighting a blush.

“But mostly to Steve, who totally wants to have his genius babies.”

“ **Thank you** , Hawkeye.” Steve’s face was burning, and Bruce was giving him that ‘are you crazy’ look again.

“Aww, codename.”

“Yes, he definitely called you Hawkeye out of the field… you’re in trouble now. Enjoy running your drills later.”

“C’mon Nat – don’t give him any ideas about punishment.”

“He’s not denying it. Could someone please explain to me why he’s not denying it?”

“Winghead thinks he has the hots for my boss.”

“I don’t _think_ Shellhead. I know I’d like to ration him. Not that it’s likely to happen, even if we are closer to being actual friends now. Anyway, we’re not having this fight again. Me’n the rest of the team _are_ gonna help protect ‘im, an’ it ain’t a waste-a time. So you better figure out how ta live with alla that.”

“I, for one, happen to believe Captain Rogers and the Avengers should be allowed to assist in keeping Sir safe.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Captain. Even if Iron Man insists on his present stubbornness, I shall endeavor to keep you in the loop as best I can.”

“Okay, now that we all know that JARVIS has a crush on Winghead, let’s move on. Fine! You can all help, but I’m in charge of the op, and _you_ can argue with Mr. Stark about it Winghead.”

“Done.”

“He’s not going to be happy with you. He didn’t want any of you involved.”

“I can handle him being cranky with me if it helps keep him _safe_.”

“Whatever. Fine. JARVIS, send what leads we have to Clint and Nat. Bruce and JARVIS can stick to figuring out that compound. Winghead, I guess you and me will be on guard duty when Mr. Stark wants to leave the tower. Mostly because I’m guessing you won’t just leave it to me, when it is my actual job.”

“Good guess.”

“Fine. Then _you_ get all the black tie events, because they’re boring as shit. Have fun getting fitted for a tux.”

“Aww, fighting. Iron Mom and Captain Dad are fighting again,” Clint stage-whispered to Nat and Bruce, earning a brief glare from Steve. “And mommy’s being _vicious_.”

“Clint, give it a rest, please.”

“No, he’s right – sorry Winghead. I’m just… frustrated. Anyway, I guess I’ll go tell Mr. Stark – don’t be surprised if he comes to yell later.”

“You’re leaving? I thought-” Steve forced himself to stop, biting his lower lip. Tony was in danger, so of course that was what Iron Man would be focused on; it was his job, as he’d pointed out. It was what _he_ should be focused on too, but… Tony was safe in his workshop. As far as Steve knew, he didn’t have any plans to leave the tower for the rest of the day. While he and his Shellhead hadn’t set up anything concrete, he’d thought they were going to spend a bit of time together.

A debriefing where they had a non-argument over Tony hadn’t been what he had in mind. Especially after his nightmare and being unable to check on his Shellhead for himself the day before, he just… he wanted to hang out a little. It would help reassure him that his best friend was safe, and it would put their friendship back on track at the same time. But this was more important, and anyway, maybe Shellhead hadn’t meant it. He shouldn’t have taken words spoken while the man was drugged to heart.

“Winghead? You’re looking at me like I kicked your puppy.”

“No, it’s fine. You probably should go talk to Tony. Are you… _you’re_ okay though, right? You were hit by the drug too, and fought Doom with us despite that. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine – you heard Bruce and JARVIS, that drug really just made me a little confused and uncoordinated. Doom’s shitty robots didn’t land any hits, and Mr. Stark and the security team had everything at the luncheon taken care of by the time the armor was back online. Biggest blow I took yesterday was to my pride.”

“Okay. Good. It’s good you’re okay.”

“I thought he had a crush on Tony, not Iron Man?” That was Bruce, reminding him that they still had an audience. One that was apparently very judgy.

“Could we _not_ turn my feelings into a joke, please?” he asked plaintively, shoulders slumping and cheeks burning. He could already see where this was going – a running joke where he and his crush were the punchline. Even Thor would tease him, though he wouldn’t mean to actually hurt his feelings.

“Awww, Winghead,” Iron Man cooed playfully as he threw an armored arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Don’t pout. You know we all love our fearless leader, even if he is a stubborn ass. Any teasing is affectionate in nature.”

“Still. I’d rather not… it isn’t a joke is all. I like him an awful lot, and even if _he’d_ laugh at me for it, I’d appreciate it if you lot didn’t do the same.”

“Sorry Steve.”

“It’s fine, Bruce. Just… for future reference. That goes double for you, Clint.” Suddenly, Shellhead drew him in even closer, squishing Steve to his metal torso in a one-armed hug. As the edges of the arc reactor dug into his chest, he was reminded of a similar press that had happened when Tony was laying on top of him – maybe Tony wore a pendant with the same shape. That seemed like something the genius would do. Iron Man shook him out of those thoughts when he buried his fingers in Steve’s hair.

“He wouldn’t laugh at you, Winghead,” he promised softly in a voice clearly meant only for Steve. “He’d _never_ laugh at you for that. Now come on, gloomy Gus. Let’s go play Mario Kart before Thor comes back and breaks the only controller that I can use while in the armor.”

“I thought you wanted to get back to Tony?”

“Nah. He’s safe in the workshop – JARVIS will let us know if anyone breaches the tower. Highly unlikely given the class of villain I saw yesterday. Even the tech they used to take the armor down is easy to counter now that I know what to be looking for. So he’s fine, and we’re… we’re not. We haven’t been hanging out, and I miss you. So he can labor in safe, blissful ignorance on his inventions for a while. I’ll go get him after lunch so he can come yell at you if he wants.”

“Sounds good, Shellhead.”

“Does this mean the divorce is off? I get to keep both super-parents?”

“Hawkeye, I heard you volunteering earlier to test out the new simulators Tony put in last week. Why don’t you go do that now?”

“… I gotta learn to keep my mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” “Leave him alone, Shellhead. He’s got a hard day ahead of him. Think of us, Hawkeye, playing Mario Kart and having some laughs while you run all those tests. Try not to use all your arrows in case we get called out. Nat, I trust you can handle chasing down those leads until Hawkeye finishes?”

“Of course. Might even be easier at first.”

“Aww, Nat. You’re turning on me too?”

“You made your own bed. Don’t blame me for it.”

“Know what? Stark is now officially my favorite, because you are all cruel, heartless beasts.”

“What exactly did I do?”

“Tattle-tale, Banner. You’re a tattle-tale. I’m telling my sugar daddy on all of you later. After I test the new simulators!” Clint added hurriedly, seeing the look Steve shot him. “I’m going, I’m going!”

To say Steve wasn’t pleased with the attempted kidnapping of Tony Stark was an understatement – whoever was behind it would be in for a world of pain once JARVIS, Shellhead, Nat and Clint tracked them down. By the same token, he didn’t need to stress about it too much just yet, not with Tony safe in the tower and the prospect of spending time with Shellhead ahead of him. He didn’t need to worry that the villains would get away with it either, because the four team members who were looking for them _would_ track the perpetrators down. With their combined skills, they were the scariest and nosiest set of people in the world. While they did that, Bruce and JARVIS would figure out what the hell that drug was, and would have counter-measures prepared. And he and his Shellhead would keep Tony safe until he could rip the hearts out of whoever had done this.

Working together, the team would keep Tony safe – whether he liked it or not. Because as Clint had pointed out, he was theirs. And even if he didn’t suit up with them to fight crime, he was an Avenger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't been on it in the last couple weeks because I've been busy being angry at the idiot I have to call my president and sulking over my advanced age, but come see me on [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/)! Feel free to leave prompts in my Askbox - it takes a while, but I do try to fill them.


	10. A New Kind of Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, probably shitty transitional chapter. XD Entering the home stretch! I'm thinking maybe two longer plot-heavy chapters (or four shorter ones, depending on how cooperative my muse is feeling) are ahead, and then a chapter or two of fluff to finish it off.
> 
> Comments please? <3 They are food for my hungry writer's soul. XD

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just wear one of the suits that I already have. Or why we can’t just go to that shop Clint told me about – The Men’s Wearhouse, I think it was?”

“Steve. Cap. Steve. Stevie-kins. Babe. Cookie crumble. It would be a criminal act to put you in anything less than a custom made, custom fitted tux. A crime bordering on treason, actually. Fury would clap me in irons and have me… I don’t know, keelhauled or something. I’m not really up on piratical punishments. So no – we’re not going to… ugh. The Men’s Wearhouse.” Tony didn’t look up from his phone, but he _did_ give a dramatic shudder. “You’re going to make me break out in hives just thinking about it.”

“They’re only clothes, Tony,” Steve protested again, feeling himself start to blush. “And I could buy my own too – I’ve got that Army back pay.” Back pay he was almost completely certain Fury had somehow blackmailed out of the US government, but back pay all the same. “You don’t have to do this. Pay for my tux, I mean.”

“Tux _es_ , Steve – three simple ones, I think, to start. That way you’ll have something to wear right away, and my tailor will have your measurements and can start on something more elaborate for the really fancy occasions.”

“Tony that’s… that’s too much. And you really shouldn’t have come with me either. It isn’t that I don’t want you here!” Steve amended in a hurry, even if Tony had barely reacted to his words. God, the awkward atmosphere between them had everything starting to come out _wrong_ again. “It’s just that I know you’re busy, and that you, ah, aren’t exactly, you know… happy with me at the moment. So you didn’t have to do this.”

Tony finally looked up at him – though his eyes were hidden behind a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, Steve was sure the look in them would be thoroughly unimpressed. After all, saying he wasn’t happy with Steve was probably a huge understatement. There’d been yelling once he was informed of the plan, just as Shellhead had warned. When Steve refused to budge, the silent treatment began – Tony wouldn’t even talk to him about the events they’d be attending together. It was from Ms. Potts (Pepper, he had to remember to start calling her Pepper or she was likely to stab him with one wicked-looking stiletto heel) that he got a schedule and a bit of information about what to expect. Though the genius had come for the breakfast of pancakes he’d been promised the next day, he’d spoken only to Clint and Nat. Steve was still allowed in the workshop, but only JARVIS and the ‘bots would talk to him.

The AI and Shellhead had tried to console him, but Steve’d still gone through more punching bags in the past few days than he had since first moving into the tower. It sort of sucked that he felt his tentative friendship with Tony slipping away just as he’d gotten his Shellhead back – it was like the universe would only let him have one of them at a time.

He’d been sure he’d continue to get the freeze-out from Tony until this whole matter was resolved – the man had been **so** hot under the collar during their confrontation. Hot under the collar, unbelievably unconcerned about his own well-being, and utterly dismissive of the fact that he had every right to receive protection from the Avengers.

_“I’m not important enough for the Avengers to drop everything and come to my rescue! I’m just a rich alcoholic who has enemies because I’m a shitty person. I’ve got this under control, alright? There are people out there who need your help and_ deserve _it Steve.”_

He was pretty sure Tony hadn’t meant to say so much – almost immediately after the words escaped, he’d paled and then rushed out of the room. The next time they saw each other, the genius was acting as if he didn’t exist. Steve was pretty sure he’d never, ever forget the pain and loneliness he’d seen in Tony’s eyes when he’d been babbling those awful things about himself. He just wanted to wrap the man up in his arms and tell him how wonderful he was until he finally started to believe it. Some of the sentiments the genius had let slip echoed the objections that Shellhead had made – he was beginning to wonder if maybe Iron Man’s surprisingly low opinion of Mr. Stark had come directly from the man himself.

In any event, the cold shoulder had been remarkably thorough, but he’d been prepared to pay that price for as long as he had to in order to know that Tony was safe. Twenty minutes ago, however, Tony had burst out of the elevator onto Steve’s floor. Without any preamble, he announced that he was taking Steve to his tailor to get him fitted for a custom tuxedo, steamrolling over Steve’s every protest. Sure, Tony could never _actually_ drag him anywhere against his will, but they got awful close to it. The smaller man had latched onto his arm and started tugging; Steve reluctantly followed, mostly to keep the genius from straining anything trying to move him.

Even if Tony had been wearing those sunglasses the whole time, and even if every word out of his mouth had been a snarky demand, Steve had let himself hope. The car ride, however, was giving that hope a slow and painful death. Each attempt to start a conversation was met with dismissive, absent answers, and Tony hadn’t even _looked_ at him until now, and… God this was awful. Because even if Tony was finally looking at him, it was not in a way that could be called ‘admiring’ in any sense of the word.

“Did you even look at the event list Pep sent you?”

“Of course I did.”

“So you realize then that everything _you’re_ scheduled to attend with me is extremely formal. You’ll be attending all of these very stuffy, very formal events full of vicious gossips and story-hungry journalists with me. Because you are the prototype of the typical American Boy Scout, I’ll bet you’ll be stuck to me like glue – you’re too protective and overbearing for anything else.” Steve frowned at that characterization of himself, but Tony barreled on before he could say anything about it. “I attract a lot of attention at these things, cookie crumble. I’m rich and devastatingly handsome, and they all love to hate me; that means every eye is going to be on you too.”

“Yeah, I understand that Tony. I get it – I played the publicity game before I joined the war for real, remember? You can stop talking like I’m some dumb kid.”

“No, you don’t get it. You haven’t dealt with people like this before Steve, not en masse and not with me. They won’t believe you’re just there as a bodyguard, not for long. After two or three events at most – if it takes that long to figure out this mess – the rumors will start. The tabloids will paint us as lovers at best, but my guess is at least two exposés on how I’m using my leverage as someone who bankrolls the Avengers to take advantage of the wholesome and naïve Captain America.”

“But that’s not-”

“No. That’s a story I’m okay with – better than them dragging _you_ through the mud. I don’t mind slogging through it, and your image should stay as clean as we can keep it. Me as the bad guy or us in a relationship are the two versions of the story my lawyers won’t make a shit-ton of money taking to court. If we- … if you and the Avengers don’t catch these guys within two weeks, we’ll be an ‘item’ in everyone’s eyes for sure. If you really think you want to do this, then you need to get ready for a level of scrutiny you’ve never faced before.”

Steve had a lot of feelings about all of that. A lot of complicated ones that were pulling him in several different directions. On the one hand, it sort of sounded like Tony wanted to protect him, which made his heart flutter happily and the thought of it warmed him from the inside out. On the other hand, he was very much _not_ on board with letting the papes portray Tony as a ‘bad guy’ for dating him – not that they’d actually be dating, of course! Which was another idea he’d have to digest, the thought that people would _think_ he was dating Tony while he was _wanting_ to date Tony and the man was _actually_ hardly speaking to him. That was all going to be really, really hard to handle. But in any event, he was pretty sure he’d punch any so-called journalist that suggested Tony was somehow taking advantage of him or behaving at all like a villain.

He also was starting to have a sinking feeling that he knew the real reason behind this little trip.

“And you don’t want me to embarrass you,” he murmured through numb lips, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. Jesus, how could he not have realized what the problem was sooner? Everyone was always ragging on his clothing choices, so much that now he just stuck with jeans and a t-shirt most of the time to get people to leave him alone. It was better than being called ‘Gramps’ constantly. He didn’t think the suits he had for official Avengers events were that bad, but… his taste was clearly not in keeping with current fashions. Tony had obviously noticed that, and didn’t want to be seen with him in his usual crappy outfits. Steve didn’t blame him.

“… come again?”

“That’s why you’re coming with me, right? To make sure I don’t pick out the wrong thing – Nat does that sometimes too. My clothes are always… Clint says I dress like I’m ninety. To be fair I kind of am, but that’s not – well, I just… I know you’d probably be embarrassed to be seen with me if I wore something that I picked out. I mean, since I’ll be with you that means everyone will be judging you by what I’m wearing too, right? So I can’t… you don’t want me to mess up your image. I’m sorry you have to do this, Tony.”

“Ooookay, cookie crumble,” Tony started, still using the new-today nickname that made Steve want to giggle and blush if he let himself think about it. “That is not even remotely – no. That’s crazy talk. I don’t give a shit what you wear, Steve. If you decide you want to come in your PJs, I’ll back you all the way and even wear a pair myself to show solidarity. I’m not… I wouldn’t be _embarrassed_ by you in your regular clothes, for Christ’s sake. You’re… you’re _you_. There’s nothing to be embarrassed by – you’re amazing. Fuck. I know I’m vain, but I’m not _that_ much of a shallow prick, I swear.”

“O-oh. But then-”

“Alright, no. I should explain. Pep said I should talk to you about… but I’m still a little… you just shouldn’t have to deal with these people, Steve.” Tony sighed and pulled off those annoying sunglasses, throwing them to the seat of the car and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. They’re all horrible, alright? You might know some of them from Avengers parties, but Fury is really careful about who he lets get near you or the rest of the team. At the events we’ll be going to, the worst of the worst are not going to have that wall to climb over, and they’ll swarm. They’re awful, cookie crumble. They’ll pick and they’ll peck until they find a soft spot, and then they’ll stick a knife where you’re most vulnerable. Oh, it’s all very civilized on the surface, done discreetly and in the most pleasant tones of voice possible, but they’re vultures. It’s a battlefield, Steve, and not one that you’re used to. I am, and I know what it takes to get through it, alright? I’d never, ever send you out to fight evil without the right uniform and any weapons you might need. You trust me with that, right? To equip you and the other Avengers? Well that’s what I’m doing now, just with a different kind of armor. I can afford to give you the best Steve, what you’ll need to hopefully make it out of this unscathed. It’s… it’s one of the only things I _can_ do. So even if I’m not thrilled with you and your stubborn hovering right now, I’m damn well going to do it and it doesn’t have _shit_ to do with being embarrassed or any other ridiculous theory you’ve got. This is me outfitting you for battle – let me do it and stop questioning my motives, alright?”

Yeah. Tony was _definitely_ trying to protect him. Maybe it was with the prickliest attitude and most confusing explanation he could manage, but still. He was trying to take care of Steve, the way that Steve liked to take care of everyone else. Tony… Tony might want him safe as much as he wanted to protect the genius from the rest of the world. The man did make his Avengers uniform, and was constantly upgrading and tweaking it to make sure that it was the absolute best that he could give. If he thought of these events as another kind of battlefield, it only made sense that he’d do the same… and for formal events, that meant expensive, custom tuxedos.

They were going to be going into battle _together_ , he realized suddenly, a giddy feeling rising inside of him. They would have each other’s backs, just like he and Shellhead did when they fought evil robots. And yeah, Steve didn’t quite understand the layout of this battle or the best way to fight it, but he vowed to himself that he’d learn. He’d watch and he’d learn, until he could protect Tony the same way the genius was protecting him. If he really wanted to be with Tony, he would have to be able to do this, and do it well.

Lucky thing he’d always been a quick study. The people behind that attack and possible attempted kidnapping of Tony would be caught soon, he was sure of that. So he had only a very limited amount of time to prove to the guy he wanted to ration that he could handle his life. The next couple of weeks would be crucial in his campaign to woo Tony Stark – this might be his best chance, even his only chance. He would learn how to navigate the battles that Tony faced every day, and hopefully find a way to charm the genius at the same time, so he wouldn’t want to face any more events without Steve at his side.

Protect Tony from kidnappers, learn to navigate his world, and sweep him off his feet… all with having only the barest idea of how to dance, what forks he was supposed to use, or any of the other social niceties of the wealthy. Easy as pie.

Fuck. When he got back to the tower, he’d have to call in reinforcements in the form of Nat and JARVIS. They’d help him learn what he needed to know.


	11. Preparing for Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was supposed to be up ages ago, sorry about that! I got hit with a nasty bout of insomnia, and not the fun, manic, creative kind. This was that kind's more draining cousin, so I just couldn't. That DOES mean more chapters tho! 'Cause this is only about half of what I'd planned, which means there'll be at least three more instead of two. XD
> 
> Comments please? :D

People made fun of him for it, but Steve actually enjoyed debriefings. They were a chance to review everyone’s actions and figure out how to do things better next time. The strategist in him loved the opportunity to see how he could have done it differently, loved picking apart his decisions and why he’d made the ones that he had. So yeah, maybe it made him a little dorky – Shellhead certainly thought so – but he always attended unless he was gravely injured, paid perfect attention and took copious notes.

However, he couldn’t have said with any certainty what they’d talked about during _this_ particular debriefing. Not even if his life depended on it. All Steve could think about the whole time was how badly he wanted it to be over, because he had less than three hours to get ready for his first (non-Avengers) formal event at Tony’s side. On the face of it, that seemed like a lot of time… but some of their foes, thanks to a manically grinning Loke, had been large slug-like creatures. Ones that, upon dying, exploded spectacularly.

As a consequence, Steve had slug guts in places he didn’t even want to think about.

And lord but he _stunk_.

So realistically, he needed at least an hour to shower and quite a bit of time to get dressed. If he could manage a chunk of time where he could do nothing but panic, that would be great. Nat would want to perform an inspection and Clint would want to make fun of him; Bruce and Thor might want to see him off to wish him well. All of that was going to take time, precious time that he didn’t have an awful lot of, and he was itching to get the hell out of SHIELD headquarters so he could head home and get ready.

But Fury would not. Stop. Talking. He wouldn’t shut up, even though they had to have covered the whole of the short battle by now. Steve had started fidgeting restlessly twenty minutes ago, earning a few one-eyed glares. Clint – the little shit that he was – had taken to asking involved questions and then sticking his tongue out at Steve as soon as Fury looked away. Since Loki had been involved, Thor kept breaking out into booming speeches bemoaning his brother’s betrayal. Nat and Bruce, at lease, were blessedly silent and he could see the woman losing her patience with Clint – hopefully she’d rein him in soon. To his surprise, Shellhead had actually attended for once, and was leveling his customary level of snark at SHIELD’s director.

When would it be over?

Frowning and shifting his weight yet again, Steve looked down at his pad of paper. There were no notes, not this time. Instead, doodles of Tony’s ‘bots danced across the page. The most recent addition was the start of a version of his Shellhead’s armor. It was in a new (for him) style, one from Japan that he’d been playing around with lately. Chibis were adorable, even if he thought the proportions were kind of weird. Keeping one ear open for the announcement that the debriefing was _finally_ over, he continued his doodles. He knew his shoulders were slumped and that he was pouting a little, but he couldn’t care enough to stop – he had places to be, dammit! Stopping his minor sulk was not high on his priority list until Fury ended this fucking meeting.

“Okay, I’m done I think.”

“Iron Man-”

“No. You’ve managed to bore _Captain America_. This is a man who lives and breathes strategy meetings. He loves this shit, and you have bored him, Fury. No. I cannot continue to watch this crime against our great nation unfold. In fact…” Steve had looked up halfway through Shellhead’s interruption, blinking and staring at his best friend. “Wanna fly with me, Winghead?”

“Don’t even think about it, Cap,” Fury warned, his glare now fixed on Shellhead who was offering Steve a hand. He shouldn’t take it, he really shouldn’t… but now he was down to two hours and fifty-three minutes, and so much was riding on him getting this right. Tony was still in a bit of a snit, though at least they were kind of talking again, and he _needed_ to impress the guy. But the team was here, and he was always lecturing them about how important these meetings were… and he was team leader, and he needed to set a good example. “Dammit Iron Man! Stop corrupting my team!”

Steve hadn’t really intended to take Shellhead’s hand, but at some point he had. His best friend let out a whoop of victory and (before Steve could change his mind) tugged hard, pulling him up and out of his chair. Then there was an armored arm around his waist, and he couldn’t help the grin that broke out over his face. “Hang on Winghead… we’re gonna break a window here. If I’m going to corrupt you, I might as well do it with a bang, after all.”

This was sooo bad of him… but Steve only grinned harder as he wrapped his arms around the man in turn. “Get me the fuck outta here, Shellhead. ‘M runnin’ outta time.” The others were talking, maybe even yelling, but he was entirely focused on Iron Man.

“Yeah yeah, I know. You got a hot date waiting for you.”

“Shaddup’n fly.”

Laughing as Shellhead burst through the glass window that overlooked one of the building’s courtyards was definitely inappropriate, but he did it anyway. Flying with Shellhead was one of his favorite things to do in the whole world. When they were up in the air, wind whipping around them and one of Shellhead’s arms wrapped securely around him, he felt free. Nothing mattered but the wonderful, delicious swooping in his stomach and the open sky around them. It had occurred to him a couple of times that he could probably ask Tony to work up some sort of gadget that would let him fly on his own, but… well.

He'd much rather fly with his Shellhead.

~.~.~

“Tony **no**.”

“Tony _yes_.”

Steve had no idea what Ms. Po- Pepper, she was Pepper – were talking about, just out of his view. From what little he’d just heard, the woman was probably trying to talk him out of doing something ridiculous. Honestly, he sort of hoped she failed, because Tony at his most outrageous was also breathtaking and exciting… even if the results were often less than optimal. Though he wasn’t sure he could handle all of that _and_ this function at the same time, so maybe he’d be better off rooting for Pepper just this once.

“Tony, if you don’t take that tie off and replace it with something appropriate, I am going to use it to strangle you.” Ms. Pepper Potts had the same talent that Nat did – she could be absolutely terrifying even when she sounded perfectly pleasant. Steve privately suspected it was something that came naturally to all female redheads, but he valued his life too much to voice that thought to either woman. Pepper was the only person in the world who seemed to be able to rein ‘Tony fucking Stark’ in even a little bit, so he had no doubt the tie **would** be changed. He should stop lurking out of sight so he could get a look before that happened.

When he rounded the corner away from the elevator and entered the garage where he’d agreed to meet Tony, it took a lot of willpower to look at Pepper first. She was stunning in a deep green floor-length dress that hugged her body and bared her back. Steve was pretty sure she’d have any number of men _and_ women at the gala eating out of the palm of her hand. He struggled to keep his gaze on her long enough to give a smile and a polite greeting before turning eager eyes on Tony.

Immediately, he felt like a horse had kicked him in the ribs. His breath was driven from his lungs, and Steve would swear his heart stopped for a couple of seconds. Tony was always attractive, but in a full tuxedo like this, hair styled and a devilish little smirk on his lips, the man was devastatingly sexy. Even if he knew better, he couldn’t help but give him a once-over, darting his eyes down to Tony’s ankles before dragging them back up slowly. Black fabric clung to the lines of his body like a lover, and God Steve couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if he was allowed to peel it all off. Maybe with his teeth…

Then he reached Tony’s tie, and his ability to form any kind of coherent thought kicked the bucket.

Because it wasn’t a simple black bowtie like he’d seen in most pictures, oh no. It wasn’t even one of the more ridiculous patterned or colored ones the billionaire donned on occasion. It was a long, slim tie in a shiny grey; a few inches from the pointed end was Steve’s shield emblazoned in bright, bold colors. Tony was wearing his shield. Tony was wearing _his shield_ for all the world to see, and **fuck** but it was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Steve couldn’t think, could hardly breath, his whole focus centered on that small shield Tony had donned. Something possessive and slightly dark roared to life in his chest, insisting ‘ _mine mine mine mine MINE_ ’ in a chant that was swiftly becoming a snarl. He couldn’t really think, but God how he _wanted_. He wanted to grab Tony and press him against one of the man’s shiny, expensive cars and kiss him senseless. He wanted to trail his lips down, until he reached Tony’s neck where he would leave a mark that Pepper couldn’t take away. Steve wanted to _own_ Tony, make sure the genius knew he’d staked his claim; he wanted to drop down to his knees and-

Forcing his thoughts away from visions sure to give him a full hard-on, Steve ripped his eyes away from that fucking tie with effort. Instead he turned his attention to Tony’s face and was surprise to see the man staring at him with huge eyes and flushed cheeks. Shit, he hadn’t said anything out loud, had he? God, that would ruin _everything_ , and he hoped like hell his numb brain hadn’t stupidly ordered his mouth to move. If he looked at Pepper, he might get a clue as to whether that had happened or not, but that would mean looking away from Tony. It was far more important to drink in the expression on the man’s face.

So much more important, in fact, that he actually growled when Pepper stepped between them and blocked his view. He hastily turned the sound into a cough, feeling heat rush to his cheeks, and looked away. As Pepper scolded Tony and changed the tie herself, Steve used the time to gather his thoughts and pull himself together. He was absolutely **not** going to throw himself at Tony. That tie had been to tease the media and other people at the party – it hadn’t been an invitation or a declaration. It was a classic Tony Stark goad, nothing more, and it in no way constituted a reason to jump the genius on the way to the gala.

“-ill behave, Tony. I’ll see you when you there. Which had better be within half an hour of me, or so help me God-”

“It’s not my fault Happy’s late, Pep!”

“Happy arrives _precisely_ when you tell him too Mr. Stark.” Pepper answered in crisp tones that made both men wince. Steve noticed her tucking that wonderful, awful tie in her purse… probably so Tony couldn’t put it back on when her back was turned. He was sort of surprised she wasn’t forcing the man to turn out his pockets, to be honest. “So if he isn’t here yet it’s because you told him not to be. Steve.” The change in conversation was abrupt, and he couldn’t help but flinch a little when she turned to him – from the way her lips curved just a little, the reaction pleased her. “Thank you so much for offering to do this. Iron Man as a bodyguard is wonderful in concept, but he’s rather… conspicuous at parties, and he has no problem helping Tony get into all kinds of trouble. I hope you’ll be a good influence, and that we’ll be able to speak a little after you arrive.” 

She was brushing off his shoulders in the same brisk way Nat had, straightening his already perfect bowtie – he thought it might be a show of nerves. Knowing someone was after Tony and wasn’t worried about hurting her in the process couldn’t be comfortable. Tony being so… so _Tony_ all the time wouldn’t help either. He hoped his presence helped soothe some of her concerns – he’d like to be part of the reason the small wrinkles of worry on her brow disappeared. 

“Now you have my number, so please use it if Tony give you any trouble.” Her tone had been noticeably softer and warmer as she spoke to him, which made Steve blush again. That change combined with the light teasing of Tony had the other man spluttering about ‘betrayals’ and ‘treacherous redheads’.

“Thanks Ms. … Pepper. But I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

“Hm. This isn’t a Stark Industries event, so I don’t have as much control as I’d like – I do wish your first had been with us. Still, you’re right and we’ll get through this just fine. If you have significant trouble with anyone besides Tony, let me know that as well, if you please. At the very least I can have them removed from the guest list for our launch party next week.”

“Yes Pepper.”

“Good boy. Now I’m off – one of us has to arrive on time, and heaven knows it won’t be Tony. _Try_ to behave, please.” The scold was impossibly fond, and both she and the genius were smiling as she leaned in to brush a kiss over his cheek. He’d expected that, because they were close friends. What took him by complete surprise was when she turned and did the same to _him_. She was walking away before he could ask, her driver helping her into her coat before he opened the door to her limo so she could slide inside.

“So… you two don’t go together to these things?” Steve asked absently, eyes on the limo as it drove away.

“No. Gives press expectations when we do, and then they start speculating about how she slept her way to the top – she’s too good a CEO to put through that shit when I don’t have to. Sometimes when it’s an important SI event or we’re having trouble with the board we’ll show at the same time to present a united front, but otherwise she takes her car and I take mine. Besides that, I like to leave early a lot, and sometimes I have, ah… company. It’s better if we drive separately.” Sure that last bit sounded like the sleazy playboy Tony pulled on for the world, but the rest… God, all Steve heard was how much he _cared_ , and how he’d do what he could to protect the people he cared about. “Anyway. You, um. You look good Steve. _Really_ good.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” He answered, blushing yet again as he flicked his eyes to Tony’s and then away. “I hate being in getups like this,” he confessed quietly, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. “Feel like a performing monkey. Leftover from all that crap selling bonds, I guess.”

“Well you don’t look like a monkey, if that helps. More like an Adonis. That… probably doesn’t help, huh?” Not really, no, but it was nice to know that Tony appreciated the way he looked. He just wished he knew if he was saying it objectively (because Steve knew he _was_ objectively good looking) or if Tony was actually attracted _to_ him. “Sorry. I’m sorry you have to wear it all – I did say we could go as PJ buddies if you wanted. We can do that next time if you don’t start feeling a bit better about the tux. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Tony looked upset by the very idea of it when Steve looked over at him, so he sent the man a warm smile to try and reassure him.

“I’ll get used it, don’t worry about that Tony. You said it’s the right uniform for this battle, right? First time in a new suit is always a little shaky. Next time it won’t bother me at all. And hey, at least I’m not gonna hafta get up on stage or nothin’, right?”

“Hmmm. If you say so. You have the shield I made you, right? I know it’s not as good as yours, since you can’t throw it, but it’ll give you a little bit of protection. I’ll have it tweaked even more for the gallery opening on Sunday, I promise. I’m working on a couple other nifty spy gadget things to keep you safe too – those have been a lot of fun. Are you sure you don’t want a gun? Because I can get you a gun. If you still insist on doing this, anyway, because you really don’t have to. I’ll be fine and these things are awful. So even if you look fucking killer in that tux and I kind of want to show you off, you can definitely bail. I mean-” Knowing the man would go on for the next ten minutes if he wasn’t stopped, Steve stepped close to the other man and gently clapped a hand over his mouth. As he did, he had to fight the urge to smile – he knew it would come out too soft and too affectionate.

“Tony, I’m coming with you. You really think I’d let you go alone after you keep telling me how shitty they are? No way. If I’d known, I’d have offered to come before now – you shouldn’t have to go into battle alone. You have the team now, Tony. You have me. I’ve got your back, even if the bad guys who’re after ya don’t show. Even after we get ‘em, I’d come if you asked me to. If you wanted me to.”

The man’s eyes were wide and filled with something Steve didn’t quite understand… but it was startled and sweet, and he liked it an awful lot. He felt Tony open his mouth against his palm and shook his head to let the genius know he wasn’t done yet. “I don’t want a gun, but thanks for offering. I can’t wait to see all the other stuff you’re working on – it’s going to be amazing, I bet. I am wearing the watch you gave me, and even if I can’t throw it, I feel better having it. I don’t get how it works, not really – bits of light and energy turning into something solid – but I do know that it _does_ work. It’ll be nice to have a shield of some kind if something happens. Thanks for all the work you did creating it.”

From the way Tony’s eyes were almost glowing and how his mouth felt slack under Steve’s hand, he was pleased with the little speech. Finally, _finally_ , he’d managed to get everything right with Tony the first time. He hadn’t fumbled his words, or accidentally offended the genius, or let his need to hide his feelings turn him cold. He’d gotten it all out the first time and made Tony happy. This was a good step forward and a kind of victory – maybe now Tony’d stop half-freezing him out over the whole ‘I don’t need you to babysit me’ issue. Maybe they could both be friendly toward each other all the time again, and Steve could start working his way to being more. After all, he hadn’t gotten this wrong.

So naturally, that was when his mouth stopped listening to his brain and set out to ruin everything.

“You were wearing mine earlier,” he murmured without meaning to, stepping even closer to Tony. His voice was rougher and deeper than it should have been, and part of him was screaming that he needed to stop, because this was a terrible idea and it would only have Tony heading for the hills. The rest of him thought it would be a great idea to remove his hand from Tony’s mouth and use it to cup his jaw instead. His thumb ran over the man’s skin in a gesture that was decidedly possessive, and this was going to fuck things up between them because Tony didn’t even really _like_ him right now, but Steve just couldn’t get himself to stop. “My shield. You were wearing it.” Steve’s voice was a low growl now, and he liked the way that made Tony’s eyes flutter shut as he leaned into his hand, a flush crawling over the genius’ cheeks once more.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed quietly, then darted his tongue out to lick his lips and force Steve to swallow a moan. “I was.”

“I _liked_ it on you.”

Even though it was a terrible idea, he was going to kiss Tony. He knew It from the way he completely closed the distance between them, their chests brushing as they breathed. He could tell from the way he’d used his hold to tip the man’s head back just a little, giving him better access to those wonderful lips. The crazy part was, from the flush on Tony’s cheeks and the sweet way his breath stuttered, the other man was going to kiss him _back_. This was it – this was going to be the start of _them_.

And maybe it could have been if their limo hadn’t pulled up at that exact moment. Maybe if Happy hadn’t jumped out the driver’s side door and started babbling, seeming oblivious to the situation, Steve would have kissed him anyway. Maybe if Tony hadn’t jumped away from him like he was a fucking leper, he wouldn’t have let even Happy stop him.

‘Maybe’ was the worst thing in the world besides crushed hope. Steve thought it was incredibly unfair that he had to deal with both at the same time during the entire awkwardly silent drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we will have the gala and... THE REVEAL! Dun dun dun! 
> 
> It's largely done in my head, but I have to go to bed early tonight and I wanted to get SOMETHING up before I did.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and for all the comments and support! It's absolutely wonderful of you all! <33


	12. Fighting, Falling and Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNING - because I do not know how to tag and if I need to add it to the main listing. There is a brief mention of a past situation that was, in simple terms, date rape. It is not talked about explicitly or in great length, but if this is a trigger for you, please be aware of your own needs! If you need/want to skip that part, it starts in the second section when Tony reenters the scene and has ended by the paragraph that starts with "What he _could_ do..." If you think I should add this to the main tags or have a better way for me to make people aware, please help me out and let me know! I'm just really terrible at knowing what to tag. Thanks!***
> 
> Oh my god. This got soooo long. Too long, because I got lost in non-plot stuff again. :'D I should just not do plot anymore ever, because I clearly cannot handle that level of responsibility.
> 
> Two-ish chapters to go! Comments feed my sooooul. <333

Steve had known there would be photographers and entertainment journalists waiting outside the gala to watch the glamorous guests arrive. He _hadn’t_ anticipated just how many of them there would actually be. Nat had tried to warn him, of course, but he just hadn’t been able to picture the level of chaos that would be involved. So when the limo eased into the line of cars waiting to drop off their passengers and he caught his first sight of the sea of people and cameras, he froze.

He felt his eyes go wide and his mouth drop open, and he knew he was being ridiculous. This was not the way to prove he could handle Tony’s life – he couldn’t be fazed by every little thing that he wasn’t completely prepared for. Not when so much about tonight would be new to him but old hat to the ‘billionaire playboy’ he was with. If he could just take it all in stride, maybe Tony wouldn’t mind him tagging along to these things for the foreseeable future. He could do this, and he could do it well enough to impress his guy. Steve took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for when he would have to head into the crush, only to be pulled out of his inner pep talk when he saw what looked like a red carpet. Holy shit. This was… this was absolutely insane.

A light touch to his elbow nearly made him jump out of his skin – when he looked to Tony, the man was doing a poor job of hiding his amusement at his reaction. “Alright. This first part can get a little crazy. Just stick with me, try to smile, and don’t feel like you have to answer any of their questions, okay? Oh, and no punching no matter what they say – I’ve socked enough of these people in my day to know it’s almost never worth it. So even if all this has you reliving your showgirl days, remember that none of these people are Hitler and do not introduce your fist to their face.”

“Real funny, Tony. You’re a hoot’n a half, you know that?” Despite the dry tone of his voice, Steve _did_ feel the knot of tension in his stomach start to unravel at Tony’s teasing. “If they get too far into your space though I can’t promise anything.” JARVIS and Nat had both talked him through when it was and wasn’t acceptable to break cameras. They’d both also drilled ‘never physically attack the journalists’ into his head, but he knew himself pretty well. If any of them got inappropriate with Tony, he’d lose his cool pretty quick.

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Steve,” Tony returned, rolling his eyes as he reached for a slim box at his side that Steve hadn’t noticed earlier. “I’ve been dealing with the press since I was four – I can take care of myself. And you, if I need to. It’s almost our turn to dazzle the masses, but I have… you don’t have to use yours. I just… I like pocket squares, and I figured you maybe might not have one, so I had Happy run to – that’s not important. Just, ah…” Steve loved the way Tony babbled when he got nervous, because he only did it around people he was comfortable with. He was so suave and cool for the outside world, and very few people got to see what a dork the man really was. He couldn’t help the fond smile that broke over his face as he listened, though part of him ached to tell the genius that he didn’t need to worry so much, because Steve would love whatever the hell was in the box. Tony was fidgeting with the contents but they were hidden from his view, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was so important about these particular pocket squares.

Especially he _had_ had a blue one to start, folded carefully by an exacting Natasha. Once he was in the elevator and away from her, however, JARVIS had suggested he might want to go without. He’d bowed to the AI’s suggestion and left that bit of fabric behind. It was clear that JARVIS had been well aware of whatever Tony had planned, and his intervention had removed an unnecessary bit of awkwardness – Steve would have to thank him when they got home.

“Are you actually going to let me see it before I decide?” He was only teasing, but Tony immediately moved faster than a striking snake and slipped a brightly colored bit of fabric into the pocket of his jacket. When Steve looked down, he found himself surprised, and then he was blushing without really knowing why. The pocket square had a paisley pattern done in red and gold – his Shellhead’s colors. Why Tony would want him to wear them he didn’t quite understand… though since the genius had been the one to create the armor, maybe they were Tony’s colors too. In any case, it’d be nice to carry a piece of his best friend with him all night. He carefully straightened the fabric then smoothed his fingers over one corner, another smile curving his lips. “Thanks Tony – I love it.”

When he lifted his eyes to the other man, however, he found felt his breath catch. Tony’s gaze was fixed on where Steve was still stroking the little square, and there was _hunger_ in his expression. For just a few seconds, he could let himself believe that Tony wanted him back… but then his face shuttered, anything real suddenly hidden behind his press smile. And really, Tony had been looking at the square anyway, not him – maybe it was Iron Man that he wanted. Maybe Nat was right – maybe they’d dated, and maybe it hadn’t been Tony’s idea to end things.

God he hated ‘maybe’s.

By the time Steve roused himself out of his depressing thoughts, Tony had settled a pocket square into his own jacket. Or maybe there were several, all folded together in an incredibly intricate fashion. There was what looked like the top half of a white star peeking out of the man’s pocket, set against tiered fan-folds of red and then blue. It wasn’t his shield, not exactly… but it came awfully close, and they were his colors – Captain America’s colors. Tony was wearing a bit of Cap, and Steve had a bit of Iron Man resting close to his heart.

It felt like a declaration of some sort, or like Tony was trying to tell him something. Steve couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that might be though.

“Don’t let Pep take yours, cookie crumble. They’re perfectly acceptable and she already stole my tie. She can let me have this much at the very least.” The limo, which had been slowly creeping forward in the line, finally came to a stop. “Show time. Stay close and remember that you don’t have to say a damn thing to any of them.” A pair of sunglasses appeared in Tony’s hand as if by magic, and he popped them on despite the fact that it was after dark – another layer of protection, Steve knew.

He had meant to get out first and take the brunt of everyone’s attention and lessen the chance of Tony being hit by a sniper or something of the kind, but the other man beat him to it. Tony fucking Stark stepped out of the limo first, making himself a target, and began to pose almost immediately. Forming the peace sign with both hands, he called out greetings to those photographers he knew and liked, giving the cameras the chance to capture his image in exactly the way he wanted them to. He was completely blocking the door which meant Steve couldn’t get out – for a terrible moment, he was sure Happy had instructions to pull away, disposing of Tony’s bodyguard/babysitter handily. A bit panicked, he surged forward… only to find himself feeling breathless when Tony turned to face him. Wearing a brilliant smile, he offered Steve his hand – _not_ something one did with a bodyguard.

He arched a brow in question and Tony only shrugged and waggled his fingers in a silent entreaty. “Come on, cookie crumble. Let me show you my battlefield.” Stomach fluttering, Steve swallowed and took his hand, then let Tony help him out of the limo. As soon as they were standing side by side, Tony settled a hand on his lower back, and everyone there to get a story to sell to the masses went _crazy_. He was blushing, and he knew his smile was more bashful than anything as Tony ushered him forward.

He chose to stay quiet as Tony bantered with a few of the reporters on the long walk to the building. The genius refused to call Steve his date when asked, even though Steve knew they looked pretty damn couple-y. There was no mention at all of Steve being there as a bodyguard either – strategy maybe, or just Tony trying to keep everyone guessing, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, he was pretty sure that, come morning, the pair of them were going to be on an awful lot of tabloid covers. He could only hope he didn’t look completely smitten in every single one of them. That would be a terrible way for Tony to figure out how he felt, and the teasing he’d get from Clint would be unbearable.

When they left the story-seeking crowd behind them and were safely in the entryway, Steve felt tension **enter** Tony’s frame. Apparently the people milling around them and in the rooms beyond were worse to deal with than the press – that did not bode well, in his opinion. Making a snap decision, he stepped away from that guiding hand and took the man’s arm instead so they could present a united front, hoping that would soothe Tony at least a little. Besides, if they were going to try to confuse people about the nature of their relationship, he really ought to contribute to the effort. Tony instantly sent him another of those breathtaking smiles, and he couldn’t help but return it. A moment later he rolled his eyes and (pushing down his nerves) took the sunglasses right off Tony’s face and tucked them into his pocket.

“You can have them back when the sun is actually in the sky again,” he teased, giving Tony a friendly wink. It wasn’t until he heard someone near enough to overhear him gasp that he realized what that could imply, and he immediately felt a blush spring to his cheeks. Tony, thank God, was laughing.

“Fair enough, cookie crumble. Come on – we have a room to work and self-important people to impress. Ready to give ‘em the ol’ razzle-dazzle, Spangles?”

“You’re ridiculous, but yeah, I’m ready. Let’s knock ‘em dead, doll.” Another wink from him and more laughter from Tony, and Steve was starting to think that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. If they could keep each other company and keep each other laughing, this evening could maybe even be fun.

Arm in arm, they swept out of the entryway and into the main room – to Steve it felt like every eye on the room was on them. He squared his shoulders and put a smile on his face, prepared to do battle and completely certain that victory was in the cards.

~.~.~

An hour and a half in, Steve would have been quite happy to throw himself out of a plane into an active warzone. It would be even better if he could chuck a few of the other attendees out before him. They all were so polite on the surface, but he’d lost count of the backbiting comments and backhanded compliments before Tony had introduced him to more than a handful of people. He was smiling so hard that his cheeks ached, because he knew if he let the expression fall even a little he would end up glaring. If he started glaring, they would know they’d gotten to him, and they would have won. He would be _damned_ if he’d give them the satisfaction. For the first time he was standing alone, without Tony to help him focus and keep calm – Pepper had pulled him away for a dance, and the genius had gone with an apology and a deeply regretful look. It was only going to be one dance, so there was no need to feel abandoned, but he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t how he felt.

“Captain Rogers? It _is_ you!” The smooth female voice coming from behind him sounded delighted, and it took effort for Steve not to tense noticeably in response. ‘Delight’, he’d learned, was bad, bad news in this battlefield. Resigned to his fate, he smiled even harder and turned to face the speaker – a pretty little twenty-something trailed by two other smirking women. God, this was going to be terrible, he knew that already. “When they told me _Tony Stark_ managed to snag Steve Rogers – Captain America, for goodness sake! – as a date for the evening I didn’t believe it. I was sure he’d hired a look-alike to play the part.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d heard that comment or something in a similar vein, but it still pissed him off. It was like none of them thought Tony had anything to offer him, like he was supposed to find Tony repulsive on principle – they were all fucking blind. He shifted automatically to stand in parade rest so he could hide his clenched fists behind his back, then made an effort to turn his stiff smile into something more charming. Maybe if they started cooing over him, they’d back off insulting Tony. “No ma’am,” he started, internally rolling his eyes when all three started to giggle. “I’m the real deal.”

“You certainly are,” he heard one of her hangers-on mutter. He felt her eyes raking over him, and he had to work to suppress a shudder – he hated how some of these people could make him feel violated with just a look. He kept his eyes on the spokeswoman of the group since she didn’t seem inclined to try and rip his clothes off. They were all probably at least a little drunk, he realized, which meant they might be bolder than they would normally. God, he wished Tony’s dance with Pepper was over.

“How wonderful! I’ve been wanting to come to one of the little get-togethers your people hold, but I’ve yet to manage an invitation.” She leveled a pouty look at him that she no doubt thought was sexy; he was less than impressed. “Maybe you could help with that after we get to know each other a little better. I’m Bridgette Thompkins, and these are my friends Susan and Chantall.”

“It’s nice to meet you ladies,” he lied with an incline of his head. “But I doubt I can help you. They don’t really let me see the guest list or anything.” He gave the ‘aw, shucks’ expression Nat had drilled him on – she’d said that it would be his best defense against social climbers until he’d gotten more skilled at navigating these types of situations. If they thought he was a naïve, innocent thing, they at least wouldn’t think him capable of helping them further their plots.

“No, they wouldn’t, would they?” That was the same woman who’d given him the once-over – Chantall, he thought. “Your job is to show up and look pretty – I bet you do it well. Could you flex for us, Captain?” Despite himself, Steve started to blush and the trio dissolved into giggles again. Bridgette playfully swatted at the other woman, telling her to stop.

“Sorry Captain Rogers – my friend’s been hitting the bar a little hard tonight. Her husband’s in Switzerland learning to ski… or at least that’s what he says he’s doing. She’s been a bit lonely since he went off to go navigate new slopes.” That _felt_ an awful lot like a dig, and sure enough there was a hint of rage in Chantall’s eyes before she hid it behind a bland smile. Suddenly he had the feeling that these women weren’t really friends. “So tell me… how _did_ Tony convince you to come out and play? Especially as his date – I wouldn’t think you of all people would enjoy spending time with a man like **him**.”

“With all due respect, Miss Bridgette,” he started, grabbing frantically at the fraying leash on his temper. They were giggling again – why were these women always giggling? “We did just meet. I wouldn’t expect you to know much about what I would enjoy.” Steve knew he wasn’t supposed to defend Tony – the genius had been delivering wicked pinches to his side all night whenever he tried. But God how he wanted to let this simpering idiot know that Tony was amazing and worth at least ten of her any day.

“That’s true… but you know, I’d be _so_ happy to learn.” As she spoke, she took a step toward him and ran a hand down her side in a rather suggestive manner. All Steve felt at the gesture was a hint of nausea. “Would you like to dance, Captain?”

“No, thanks.” Steve answered quickly, a bit of panic surging like it always did at the question. It took effort not to take a step back – that would be too much like a retreat, and he wasn’t willing to concede this verbal spar just yet.

“Why not? Tony isn’t possessive, you know. At least, he wasn’t when we were sleeping together.” Aw, shit. This was worse than he thought. “Unless-” she cut herself off with a gasp that was obviously rehearsed. “It’s your job to stand here while he’s out there flirting with his CEO and any other woman – or man – that catches his eye, isn’t it? You’re here to show that he commands the loyalty of Captain America. Is that what he asked of you? I wonder how much he’s paying for that loyalty...”

“Ma’am-”

“Oh, we don’t like that suggestion, do we? No… not a bit. I understand though Captain. You’re a man of integrity, after all. The money must be going to the avengers, or maybe a charity you support. Tell me _Steve_ ,” she purred, the sound of his name on her lips making his skin crawl. “How much would I have to ‘donate’ in order to earn a dance?”

“I just don’t dance, ma’am.” Steve knew his voice was too tight and that his smile was starting to slip away. “It has nothing to do with Tony or any sort of display.” He _hated_ that she still sounded so sweet and was smiling so innocently up at him – most outsiders would have no idea what the actual tone of their conversation was. Only the hardness in Bridgette’s eyes gave away the fact that this was not just a simple attempt at flirtation. In contrast, he could feel himself tensing and his expression turning unpleasant – he was losing, and he wasn’t sure how to turn the tables on her. Shit, he should have practiced more with Nat!

“Really? You don’t dance at all? That is such a shame… and it’s strange for Tony to ask someone out who doesn’t like to have fun. He loves having fun, our Tony does. Dancing is a favorite of his – it’s a great way to find partners to invite to more… intimate parties. That’s probably what he’s doing now, you know, while you stand here and wait for him all alone.” This woman was just… unbelievable.

Steve couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped – he decided he didn’t mind when she looked startled. The expression only lasted a moment, but it was worth it. “Are you… trying to make me jealous? I thought I was only here because of his money – that’s what you were saying a second ago, anyway. If that _were_ the case, why would I be jealous?”

Tony had been muddying the waters surrounding their relationship all evening, one moment acting as if they were lovers and the next treating him like nothing more than a bodyguard. Surely he wouldn’t mind if Steve added to the effort. He _really_ didn’t like this Bridgette girl, and he’d like to throw her and her giggling ‘friends’ for a loop.

“Even if I was here as his date, there’d be no reason to be jealous. He might be dancing with other people, but he’s coming home with me.” A shrug of his shoulders and another ‘aw shucks’ smile that would probably seem a lot less harmless given the subject of their conversation. “I’m not that possessive either,” he was learning that was a lie, but they didn’t know that. “Maybe he’ll find someone interesting and… introduce us.” It took everything he had not to blush at the thought, and he tried to imitate Tony’s cocky smirk. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to an addition to the party we’ll be having later.”

Bridgette and Chantall were staring at him now, while Susan was staring at the former with what looked like a satisfied smile curving her lips. These women were definitely not friends. “But… but you’re Captain America!” The instigator of this whole thing spluttered, making him laugh again.

“That’s true,” he agreed, suddenly feeling more in control of this situation. “So maybe all that was a fib – I know you modern day folk like the idea of open relationships. Maybe I’m actually extremely possessive. Maybe he’s dancing with other people just to get me worked up so I’ll… punish him for it later. He isn’t the one who got me to come out and play, you now.” He added in a conspiratorial tone of voice, channeling Clint in his ‘I’m a little shit’ moods. “I’m the one who asked him out. The man looks damn good in a tux – excuse my language, ladies – and he’d look even better out of it. He told me no at first, actually. I had to persuade him, you see. I’m the one paying out favors here, ma’am.”

“ _Really_?” she breathed, looking absolutely fascinated and hanging on his every word. Steve could practically see the dollar signs flashing through her mind – the press would pay a helluva lot for a scoop like this.

“Really. Or maybe he _did_ buy me after all – maybe this is my script. I sold bonds before they let me join the war you know, did a few movies and everything. I’m a pretty good actor, when I need to be. Or-” Steve turned his expression to one of deadly seriousness – thinking of the danger Tony could be in made the look real, even as he wanted to laugh at the bewildered look on the woman’s face. “Maybe I’m here as a bodyguard because Iron Man was needed for an Avengers mission and you’re acting like a jealous bitch – again, sorry for the language – for no reason. Ma’am.”

Steve was gratified by the way she gasped for real this time, anger putting color in her cheeks. This was one skirmish he’d definitely won if the satisfaction on Susan and Chantall’s faces was anything to go by. He wouldn’t ever like playing this game, but the exchange had him feeling confident that he could handle Tony’s world and the awful people in it. “How _dare_ you-”

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, and the woman snapped her mouth shut. The embrace felt strangely familiar, even if he’d only ever gotten that chance to hold (and cuddle) Tony once before. The genius settled his chin on Steve’s shoulder, and he was pretty sure Tony was wearing the fierce ‘back the fuck off’ version of his press smile, because Bridgette paled before firming her chin.

“Hey cookie crumble – sorry to leave you alone. I always dance once with Pep. It’s tradition at this point.”

“It’s fine, Tony. I know how important traditions are. Did you have fun?”

“No. She’s too tall – she wears heels an inch taller than usual to these things just to annoy me, I swear. It’s very rude of her. But I see you’re making new friends – isn’t that nice. Hi Bridge. Drug any wealthy men yet tonight?” _That_ had Steve’s hackles raising, and now he did glare at the woman as the urge to protect Tony roared to life inside. Before he’d come to this gala, he’d have objected to the nasty tone Tony used to deliver it, but the night had provided him with a whole new perspective on when being entirely polite just wouldn’t cut it.

“Oh _Tony_ ,” she started with a forced laugh, knuckles going white around her glass of champagne. “You do imagine the silliest things. I would _never_ do anything so crass. How has your evening been? Have you deflowered any naïve young women yet, or are you waiting until a little later when people are a bit more inebriated? I know you enjoy it more when your partner for the evening is too drunk to realize your promises don’t mean a thing.”

“Sweetie, if you were a virgin that night, I will eat Steve’s tux.” All of the accusations, as lightly as they were made, were absolutely chilling. How they could pretend all of it meant nothing he didn’t understand, not when he was only barely holding his tongue. Despite his careless tone of voice though, Steve could feel Tony almost vibrating with tension at his back – he was affected a lot more than he wanted everyone to know. Steve laid a hand over the man’s arm and squeezed gently, hoping it would remind Tony that he was here and had his back; he hoped it would help Tony relax. It worked, though only a little – he was surprised and embarrassed when Tony turned his head to brush his lips over Steve’s jaw in return. Of course it made him blush, but only until the conversation continued. “And no, any promises made while I’m drugged to the gills don’t hold much water. You need to refine your method of picking a target – you need someone with a lot more shame than me. Find a nice Catholic boy; the guilt might make him stick around once the pills wear off.”

“Tony – dance with me?” It was an awkward way to end this terrible conversation, and he knew it, but Steve was getting worried that if it wasn’t over **now** he was going to snap. The thought that this elegant looking woman in front of him had drugged Tony – his Tony – made his blood boil. He couldn’t hit her, because she might not survive it and Steve didn’t make a habit of attacking civilians. The bitch ought to be locked up, shut away from the world where she could do no more harm. She should _not_ be standing there casually sipping champagne and attacking her victim verbally. Steve wanted to erupt, wanted to shout her crimes for the whole room to hear… but he also realized that most of them probably already knew. They knew and didn’t care, maybe even thought Tony deserved it after the way he’d lived his life. There was absolutely _nothing_ he could do to make them care, and nothing he could do just now to make her pay.

What he _could_ do was get Tony the fuck away from her and then sic Nat on her once he got home. That was less satisfying than going after her himself, but it would have to do. He didn’t really have any other options.

“I… really? You want to dance with me?”

“Yeah. I’m not-” Panic welled, but he did his best to force it down and tried his hardest not to sound pathetic. “I’m not very good, so you’ll have to lead.”

“… not a problem, cookie crumble. Not a problem at all. Bye Bridge – try to behave, though I know it’s a lot to ask of you. Susan, Chantall – nice to see you.”

Before any of the woman could answer, Tony was pulling Steve away. He gave the trio a nod that was a lot politer than he felt like being, then turned and caught old of Tony’s arm so they were walking together. They were both quiet until they reached the edge of the dance floor where they turned to face each other. Steve immediately felt awkward, and he knew it was written all over his face.

“Um. I don’t… I’m not…” His cheeks and ears felt like they were burning, and anxiety was clawing at his lungs, but he could do this. “How do I…?”

“We don’t have to do this. I mean, I know you just wanted to get away from that scheming little witch.”

“No! Well, yes. But I’d like to… to dance with you. I just haven’t ever…” Swallowing hard, Steve shrugged uncomfortably and fixed his eyes on the far wall. “Nobody ever wanted to dance before the serum, you know? I asked, and Buck was always trying to find a dame that’d take a turn on the floor with me, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t what anyone wanted before. After, it always felt like that was the only reason anyone wanted to. Well, except for… but anyway, I never… I just didn’t ever feel right.” Visions of sparkling eyes and bright red lips danced in his head, and he tried his best to smile. “I was supposed to, with Peggy. We were waiting until after the war. But then the ice, and… and then there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to dance with for a little while. I guess I’ve got it built up in my head, you know? The first time is special to me now.”

He hadn’t even let Nat teach him, even though both she and JARVIS had lobbied hard. After so long it just meant too much – and once he realized his first dance could never be with Peggy Carter, it had _needed_ to be with someone just as special, who he cared about just as much. Steve had known he wanted that someone to be Tony for a while, but he hadn’t expected the issue to come up so soon. He’d thought he would have a few events to work himself up to asking so he could ease into it… but maybe it was better this way. It was still Tony, after all, and that was all that mattered.

“Jesus fuck, Steve.”

“Sorry. If you don’t want to-”

“No, that’s not-”

“-that’s fine because it’s… I know it’s a lot-”

“-what I meant, cookie crumble, not even a little-”

“-and I’m not going to be very good-”

“-I just mean… it just isn’t fair to you, everything that happened-”

“-and I’ll probably embarrass you-”

“-because you’re _amazing_ , Steve, and I just-”

“-so if you don’t want to dance with me that’s fine.”

“-I know you deserve a better partner for this than me.”

They both stopped babbling at the other at the same time, staring at each other. Tony’s eyes were as wide as Steve’s felt, and he knew they were both trying to process what the other had said. When it all finally clicked, he found himself aching for Tony – he thought so little of himself, and it broke his heart. Steve sent Tony a soft smile, for once letting all the affection he felt for the idiot genius show on his face. He reached out and carefully took Tony’s hand in his, twining their fingers together and giving a light squeeze.

“I don’t really think it’s about what I deserve, Tony. Even if it was… you’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for. Whoever you think you are and whatever you think you’re worth… I dunno. I just… I see a swell fella that I’d really like to dance with. I don’t… I wouldn’t want it to be anybody but you Tony. So can we? If you don’t mind that I’ll prolly step on your feet once or twice anyway.”

Tony was staring at him, looking dazed and maybe even a little awed. It wasn’t until Steve rubbed his thumb over the man’s knuckles that he shook himself and offered a shy smile. It wasn’t like any smile he’d ever seen Tony wear before – it felt like it was _his_ , like no one else would ever earn anything so soft and sweet from the genius. Without saying anything, he tugged Steve out onto the dance floor, guided his hands into the proper place, and then… they were dancing.

At first, it was just as bad as Steve had feared – he was awkward and unsure of himself, and felt more uncoordinated that he had in years. Hid did indeed step on Tony’s feet a few times and stumbled more than once as well. His partner didn’t seem to mind even a little, thank God, and never showed even the smallest hint of impatience or embarrassment at Steve’s bumbling. Tony just quietly murmured instructions and praise as they moved until he finally felt himself relax into the slow, simple dance.

By then it was almost four songs later, and Steve was made happier than he maybe should have been by the fact that Tony was still making no move to pull away. To have the man in his arms with them swaying gently to the music… it was like a dream, and he didn’t ever want to have to wake up. The scent of Tony’s cologne filled his nose, and it felt almost like the man’s body heat was wrapping around him. He felt surrounded by the genius, and he was sure the ice would never be able to touch him again if he could just remember these moments.

“Worth the wait?” Tony’s breath moving over his ear made Steve shiver, and he pulled the other man closer reflexively. That meant their chests were pressed together, and feeling Tony against was just… God, it was everything.

“Yeah.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he couldn’t help but wish they were alone. With so many people staring and wondering about them, it just wasn’t the time to confess. He wanted Tony to know it was _real_ \- he wanted the moment to belong to them along, even if he was rejected. So no matter how much he wanted to declare his feelings and assure Tony that he never wanted any other partner again, he would keep it under wraps for just a little while longer. A day or so more wouldn’t kill him. “Thanks, Tony. It means a lot.”

“My pleasure, cookie crumble. We can… we could practice in the workshop, if you wanted. If you’re going to keep coming to these things, I mean. So we can dance at them without you feeling awkward – that way you won’t have to miss out on all the fun. Dancing is the only good part of these things, in my opinion. So we could use the workshop to practice.”

“Think DUM-E would teach me some of his moves?” Steve asked, needing to break the seriousness of the moment even as his heart swelled in his chest at the offer.

“DUM-E is a disaster, and that you want to learn from him and not me is hurtful, Steve. So incredibly hurtful. Do you know what would happen if you tried to dance with him? Do you? He’d absolutely crush your feet for starters, because his grasp of spatial relations was programmed by a drunk seventeen-year-old and I’ve never been able to fix that completely. Then he’d get all over-excited and grab a fire extinguisher, because that is his first response to _any_ emergency.”

Smiling, deeply pleased that Tony was doing his happy babble instead of his nervous one, Steve let the stories was over him, reveling in the moment. There were no attempts on either of their parts to put more space between them – if anything, they drifted even closer. At one point, Tony even put his forehead against Steve’s shoulder while laughing at one of his own jokes.

It made every awful thing that had happened that night worth it.

~.~.~

“You’re sure Happy knows to pick us up here? We’ve been waiting quite a while.”

“Yes, Steven, I’m sure. This is where he always picks me up when I attend events here. It’s quiet and out of the way enough that no one realizes I’m sneaking away early. So just be patient.”

“If you say so.”

“Stop doubting me cookie crumble, or I’ll be cranky with you again.”

“Aww, you know I don’t mean it.”

“That innocent act would work if I didn’t know that you’re actually a troll deep down. Clint Barton has taught you too well.”

“Guess you do know me a bit too well for me to try that angle,” Steve agreed with a grin, enjoying that thought quite a bit. “I was only teasing though. Just so long as Happy is on his way. As your bodyguard I’m not a fan of this location. Too dark and isolated.”

“Right. Bodyguard disapproval noted. … if you were really my date, would you feel differently about it?”

“Wh-what?”

“Dark and secluded – bad for bodyguarding maybe, but pretty fucking awesome when it comes to dating.”

“I… that’s…” At least the dark little alley was good for hiding his blush.

“Fuck, don’t tell me _that’s_ all it took to break Captain America.”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it, Tony. And… yeah. If… if I were your date I’d feel real different about this place. I think I’d like it a lot, but then I wouldn’t be paying it too much attention.”

“Oh. Noted for future reference – good place to bring a date.” Disappointment welled in his chest, dark and bitter, but he forced himself not to take it too hard.

“Right.” Silence fell, and Steve found himself fidgeting and wishing that Happy would get there already. Sure this pick-up point of Tony’s was quiet and private – a nice change from the front entrance that was _still_ mobbed by journalists – but it also felt shady. There were too many places to set up an ambush, too many shadows where someone could be hiding. Tony didn’t seem to take the threat against him too seriously, but this place had Steve’s instincts on edge. “Will Pepper give you that tie back?” He could have kicked himself for the question, but at least it was something to talk about – when they were talking, he didn’t feel quite so on edge.

“Of course she will. Not until I promise not to wear it to super-formal events like tonight, but I’ll get it back easy. She was proud of me for showing restraint tonight, you see. The pocket squares were very subtle of me. I don’t know why she was so surprised. I can do subtle no problem.” He couldn’t, not that Steve had seen, but he thought it would be a good idea to keep that thought to himself.

“Can I keep mine?” he asked instead. “To wear next time, I mean.”

“You’d… you’d wear it again?”

“Of course. I kinda liked wearing Shellhead’s colors – made me feel braver while facing the unknown, I guess.”

“Iron Man. Right.” Tony sounded… sad for some reason. Steve didn’t like that at all.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to-”

“No. Nothing’s wrong Steve. Sorry, I just… I forgot it would make you think of him. They were my colors first, you know, but with him in the armor… of course you’d think of him. Not…” The genius sounded so _defeated_ , and Steve found himself grasping for straws. He felt like he was missing something important, something he should _know_ but just hadn’t been able to figure out, and he didn’t know how to make it better.

“Tony-”

“It’s fine cookie crumble. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not fine. I should have – of course they’re your colors. You designed the armor, right? So they’re yours more than his. He just gets to wear ‘em. I know that…” His cheeks were burning again, but he made himself continue despite his embarrassment. “I know I… I liked seeing you in my shield, even a small one like that, and I like that you’re wearing my colors. I don’t know that it’s the same for you, but-”

“It is.” _Fuck_. That was a good thing, right? That meant he had a chance, if Tony felt that way and had still made sure that Steve was wearing that pocket square. This wasn’t one-sided – he was suddenly completely sure of that.

“Well. That’s… that’s good.” God, why wouldn’t his mouth ever work right when he needed it to? “I should have known those colors were yours, Tony. I do now, and… and I like wearing ‘em. I’ll think of you before Shellhead now-”

“That’s not the point!” Tony interrupted loudly, practically growling with apparent frustration. He turned away from Steve and began to pace, running his hands through his hair in frantic motions. “It isn’t about which is _first_. It’s that… **fuck**. I can’t. This is so fucking stupid. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” That last sentence was spoken so quietly Steve had to strain to hear it; Tony sounded lost and broken, and he didn’t understand _why_. What the hell was going on?

“Tony I don’t understand. What… what wasn’t supposed to happen?”

“Iron Man was supposed to be part of the Avengers, and I was so… so happy when you became his friend. But… you weren’t supposed to like me too, cookie crumble.” The man sounded devastated, and Steve found his heart breaking for him all over again. “You were never supposed to like me too.”

Steve couldn’t do anything with that but wrap Tony up in a fierce hug… and that ended up being what saved him.

While they’d been distracted by emotions, the limo had driven up just like it was supposed to – his first thought was that Happy had the worst timing in the goddamn world. A split-second later, he _knew_ that something wasn’t right; maybe it was the speed at which the car was approaching, the way the license plate number wasn’t quite right, or maybe he noticed that one of the windows was rolling down. Steve would never know what tipped him off, but his instincts began screaming at him and he listened. He managed to turn their bodies so that he was covering Tony, his broader back to the limo that was still showing no sign of stopping.

“Get down!” Even as he barked the order, Steve was _taking_ them down, because sometimes Tony was too damn stubborn for his own good. He heard gunshots, and then a sharp pain bloomed, piercing his back and settling just under his right breast bone. Before he’d had time to process the fact that he’d been shot, he felt the impact of a second bullet in his left bicep, and then a third grazed his left shoulder just before he and Tony hit the ground. None of them were through-and-throughs, thank God, so hopefully… hopefully Tony was alright. Pain was radiating through his upper body, but Steve didn’t have time to acknowledge it, not with adrenaline hitting him hard and Tony in a lot more danger than they’d thought.

Now that they were low and hopefully harder to hit, Steve encouraged Tony to turn and crawl towards a nearby dumpster, making sure to cover him the whole way. A little bit of cover would be helpful, and maybe it would be enough to keep Tony safe until the other Avengers arrived. Distantly, he heard tires squealing and the sound of car doors opening – their enemies weren’t giving up, and this op was quickly going pear-shaped. “Faster,” he told Tony, who seemed paler than usual when he looked over his shoulder, brown eyes wide. “Need to… to get you some cover.”

“ _Us_ some cover,” Tony argued, though Steve noted with approval that he didn’t stop moving. “You mean us.”

“Yeah. Sure. _Go_.” The footsteps coming out of the car weren’t running, Steve realize. Whoever was after Tony was confident that they’d already won. The person approaching was moving slowly and deliberately; the pain in his chest and the way his head was starting to swim kept him from being glad for the extra bit of time they’d been given. They managed to reach the dumpster, and Steve pulled it away from the wall just far enough that Tony would be able to slide in between. “Get… take cover,” Steve murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. He shouldn’t have lost enough blood yet to feel this dizzy – it had been only a few seconds since he’d been shot. “I’ll… distract ‘em. You hit?” As he asked he went for the watch Tony had made him and pressed the button that was supposed to alert the team that they were in trouble. Nat and Clint would be lurking nearby, and hopefully they’d be close enough to save Tony. When he looked up, ready to demand an answer to his question, he frowned to see the man hadn’t obeyed.

No, he was crouched in front of Steve, a defiant look on his beautiful face – he was going to try and fight too, Steve realized. It made him feel impossibly soft and fond of the man, and he found himself smiling despite the situation. “No, I wasn’t hit and I’m not _hiding _. You’re… Jesus Steve, you were fucking shot. You should be the one taking cover.”__

“Gotta shield, ‘member? Ya made it fer me. ‘S a good shield. Great shield. Always… takin’ care-a me, Tony. ‘S sweet.” Words were ridiculously difficult just then, and the whole world was moving in a distinctly unpleasant way. If he just closed his eyes maybe the rocking would stop, but then Tony wouldn’t have anyone to protect him. He had to stay awake, had to protect Tony. Just then, because the stupid bastard wouldn’t get behind the dumpster, that meant Steve needed to cover the man’s body with his own. His foggy mind saw nothing wrong with collapsing against him to do that, and nuzzling his neck was obviously absolutely essential to keeping him safe. “’Vengers’ll be ‘ere soon,” he slurred in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Keep ya safe. Get b’hind the dumpster.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Tony hissed in reply, and then he had his arms wrapped around Steve – that was awfully nice, though part of him was insisting Steve was doing this ‘rescuing’ thing all wrong. But Tony was warm, and his head was so fucking spinny; if he was dying, he’d rather it be snuggled up to the man he loved. “What the hell did you do to him you fucker?” Steve almost asked what he meant, then realized the question wasn’t for him when a thin, reedy chuckle sounded from somewhere above his head.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure the virus would have any effect on Captain America, but it seems to be working just fine. Of course, his body will fight it off much faster than a normal person… I think we might need to administer another dose.” He wasn’t going to scream, not with Tony there – he didn’t want to scare the man – but he couldn’t suppress a groan of pain when a fourth bullet was fired and lodged in his left calf. The fact that it wasn’t a headshot meant something, but he was fucked if he could figure out what it was.

The whine of a repulsor filled his ears, and hope surged inside of him, bright and hot. Of _course_ Iron Man would be here first, before any of the rest. He could fly, after all. “Shell’ead…” he murmured with a smile, then felt fingers running through his hair.

“Yeah. I’m here Winghead.” That was nice… great even. Shellhead would keep Tony safe while he couldn’t – just then it was too much of an effort to even lift his head to look at his friend. “I’ve got you.” Except… that wasn’t Shellhead’s voice. That was… that was _Tony_ talking. Though it took an astounding amount of his rapidly dwindling energy, Steve managed to roll his head to the side so that it rested on Tony’s shoulder. The man’s expression was hard and slightly wild, his eyes fixed on whoever the hell kept _shooting_ him. He had one hand lifted, pointed at their attacker; Steve forced his eyes to follow the line of his arm, fighting the urge to just close them and let the darkness take him the whole way. His effort was rewarded when he got to Tony’s wrist, where he saw what looked like the stripped-down beginnings of one of Iron Man’s gauntlets, a blue glow letting him know that Tony was ready and willing to shoot.

Steve never would have seen it if he were in his right state of mind, not even with Tony wearing that make-shift piece of armor – there were too many barriers between the two most important men in his life. But just then, with his thoughts swimming and his hold on reality slipping, it all just suddenly made sense. All the pieces slotted together in just the right way, and he knew. The way his Shellhead talked about Tony, how he’d tried to warn him off; how they often seemed to use similar turns of phrase. They way Tony had disappeared after the fight with Shellhead, and all the times they couldn’t be in the same place at the same time. The way sometimes Iron Man seemed almost robotic when he _was_ seen with Tony, and the real reason he hadn’t been able to visit his Shellhead after he’d been drugged. The red and gold pocket square and Tony’s odd behavior before everything had gone so wrong.

Tony Stark was Iron Man, and now that he knew he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. Of course his Tony was also his Shellhead – it never could have been any other way.

Later – if he got a later – there’d probably be a whole mess of emotions, and maybe some yelling. Possibly some tears and hopefully some kissing – hopefully a lot of kissing. Just then, as the fresh rush of whatever had been injected into his system along with that fourth bullet hit him, all Steve could do was smile goofily.

“In love with m’best friend…” he murmured happily, and had just enough time to register the way his Shellhead’s breath caught before the dark took him. His last thought was that at least this time he wouldn’t be cold, not when Tony still had an arm wrapped around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUUN! There will be far more processing of the reveal in the next chapter, when Steve is no longer under the influence of my (admittedly lame but I really like him) villain. There will be much BAMF Tony, and then many dramas, and then maybe FINALLY with the smooching! Stay tuned!
> 
> It is 6:30 in the morning, and I've been up all night trying to edit this beast of a chapter, so there may be a bit of revising and fine tuning later, once I have slept and fed. <3 I shall be sure to let you all know in the next chapter's notes if there are any significant changes. XD


	13. Defending What's Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry guys - didn't mean to leave you hanging so long. My uterus got ridiculously angry at me for not giving it a baby this month, so this past week has not been any kind of fun. 
> 
> But here it is! I hope it isn't awful. XD
> 
> Comments are love! <3

Pain suddenly forced Steve violently back into awareness, leaving him gasping for breath. Every drag of oxygen sent what felt like shards of glass ripping through his lungs, shredding them even as he was left desperate for another breath. It was a shocking contrast to the fire burning in his left leg and arm, and he found himself trying to scream and choking on the sound. He opened his eyes, but only managed to keep them that way for a heartbeat – as soon as his lids lifted, he was blinded by a beaming light that sent a lance of pain shooting through his head.

After several agonizing moments where nothing existed but the feedback his abused body was giving him, he became vaguely aware that people around him were shouting. He grabbed hold of the sound like a lifeline, needing something, _anything_ to focus on besides the pain. It took some time, but eventually he managed to push back the physical sensations, pulling those voices to the forefront of his attention. There were three, he realized finally, struggling to regulate his breathing. Two men and one woman, all angry… and one very familiar.

“-told you I’d _fucking_ do it!” That was Tony, sounding as pained and desperate as Steve felt. “So stop whatever the fuck you’re doing to him and let me work, you stupid son of a bitch!”

“ _Please_ keep insulting me, Mr. Stark. I’ve never been able to really see what my virus is capable of. We’re still only at a very small concentration – I’ll be happy to up the dose for every ill-advised word you lob my way!”

“You _**fucking**_ -”

“Dr. Rathmore! Mr. Stark! Calm yourselves, please! This is not the place!”

Fighting. They were fighting, and that was _Tony_ , and he was just lying there like a useless lump. Pain or no pain, he couldn’t let his guy fight alone. Steve took the deepest breath he could manage, pleased to note the glass in his lungs had turned to ice-cold air – it still hurt, but at least he felt like he was finally getting more oxygen with each breath than he was losing. Another breath, and then he sprung into action.

Or at least he tried his absolute best to do just that. All he managed was a jerky half-roll that wracked his whole body with pain. This time he didn’t try to scream, but Steve was pretty sure the low, broken moan that filled his ears was his own. That seemed to catch everyone’s attention, and he found himself at the center of the storm.

“Oh no no no! Don’t move, darling boy, that’s simply not-”

“Steve! Shit, Steve, just stay-”

“Look! Look Melody! He’s adjusting so _fast_. Movement already, oh my heavens. We may get to increase the dose as a matter of course!”

“Don’t you even fucking think about it, you twisted fuck. Steve, babe-” He still couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to check, but he was absolutely certain that the hands that closed around his own belonged to Tony. “Just… don’t move, okay?” Another set of hands rolled him onto his back again, easing some of the pain and his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna get us out of this, cookie crumble, but to do that I need you to stay here and rest, okay?”

“T… Tony…” His voice came out slurred and slow, and he couldn’t quite wrap his tongue around what he wanted to say. “Wha-a’… where’re…”

“Shhh cookie crumble.” The other two voices were still droning in the background, discussing something about doses that seemed distantly important… but he found he’d far rather focus on Tony’s voice and the way he was now stroking the right side of Steve’s face. “We’re… fuck, I don’t know exactly where we are. Stop trying to open your eyes, you idiot,” the man chided, shielding them with his hand and adding a layer of comfort to the semi-dark Steve had been drifting in. “We’re gonna be out of here soon anyway. I just need to help these fucking assholes with one little thing, and then we can go home. You just rest, because they’ve got you pumped full of some shitty… fuck. I don’t know if it’s really a virus or a drug – looked a fucking lot like a drug when Bruce and I were breaking it down, but – shit. Not important. Never mind that.”

So they wanted Tony to make something – Shellhead had been right. And Tony was going to do it because of _him_. “Tony. No. Dun… don’ do…”

“Whatever the shit is, it’s fucking you up, and I don’t know how... I don’t know how to fix it, not without their help. It’s keeping you from healing, cookie crumble, and I can’t lose… who fucking knows when the others might find us without me to help with tracking us down. J’ll help, of course, but… I can’t let you die, Steve. We haven’t even… no. Not an option. So I’ll do what I need to, and we’ll be home before you even know it. You just rest. Please Steve. Let me handle this. Just… can you just trust me to do that?”

“Always… did. Tony’n… ‘n Shell’ead both.” Steve still couldn’t get his brain and mouth to cooperate, much to his irritation. He hoped the other man would understand what he was trying to say.

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t know… Jesus fuck, this is not the time. I’ve got you, cookie crumble, I promise. Just rest.”

“Mm-kay.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ve gotta- what the **fuck** are you putting in there now? We had a goddamn _deal_ -”

“Would you stop yelling, Mr. Stark? Honestly – this is a sick room.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that? You and Dr. Fuckface over there.”

“The language you use!” The woman _tutted_ , and she sounded so… so normal. Grandmotherly, even, and it was so strange. “He’s clearly in pain, and I didn’t think you’d be able to concentrate on your task if you left knowing he was hurting. So I switched… … bit of a different strain… … first hit… … he’ll… … asleep…”

Despite himself, Steve felt his attention starting to tune in and out. The pain that he’d almost gotten used to was beginning to fade; in its absence, a soft blanket of absolute darkness fell.

He was unconscious before he could do more than give a soft sigh of relief.

~.~.~

An explosion tore through the air, startling Steve out of his involuntary sleep. Habit and instinct – not any actual thought – made him throw himself off his narrow bed and onto the floor to seek cover. He landed on his left side, causing a fiery pain to erupt in his arm and leg; it was enough that it briefly overshadows the mass of agony that was his chest. Shit, had he still not healed?

This time at least he could open his eyes without wanting to die. The light was still too much at first, so as he blinked away spots and a few tears, he reached for his left arm with his other hand to start assessing the damage. In the process, he discovered that he was hooked up to an IV – the words ‘virus’ and ‘drug’ flashed sluggishly through his mind, so he ripped out the needle and hoped that would make things better. Whatever they were putting inside of him was why he felt so slow and fogged. Maybe it was also why he still ached fiercely where he’d been shot.

Another explosion – this one made the whole room shake, plaster flaking from the ceiling to rain down on him. It took a moment for him to pull everything together, but when he did worry for Tony completely took over what remained of his thoughts. Wherever the hell they were, it was clearly under attack – maybe the other Avengers had found them, or maybe that Dr… whoever had other enemies. Either way, the place didn’t seem too safe as a third explosion that shook an even heavier load of plaster free proved. He had to find Tony, and he had to find him _now_. Even though the genius was also his Shellhead, he didn’t have the armor with him.

He’d be defenseless.

Getting to his feet was easier thought than done – his muscles all felt like overcooked noodles, and pain was still radiating through his chest, arm and leg. He grabbed hold of the bed and used it to haul himself up; he managed to get to his knees before he was panting for breath and closing his eyes against a spate of dizziness. Yet another explosion threatened to send him back to the floor, but he hung onto the bed with grim determination. If he couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t get to _Tony_.

For just a moment, with whatever had been injected into his system weakening him and muddling his mind, Steve was thrown back into the past. It was before the serum, before he’d been given the strength to really fight for what he believed in. He felt like that skinny, asthmatic kid who could never get _warm_ or even take a breath deep enough to fill his lungs. How the fuck was he supposed to protect his best guy when he couldn’t even fucking breathe right? He was sickly and weak and so cold all the goddamned time that he regularly crawled into bed with Bucky at night just so he didn’t get frostbite. Why the hell would Tony even want him? And how the hell was he supposed to protect his Shellhead when he was so fucking weak and _cold_?

Though it sent him sprawling, Steve was thankful for the next explosion. It pulled him out of that hopeless mishmash of the past and present, bringing him back to the moment and reminding him of where and who he was. When he looked down at himself to get just one reassuring glimpse of his muscular frame before he renewed his efforts, Steve belatedly realized why he was still shivering. It hadn’t been just the memories of a time long dead.

Except for the bandages wound around his chest and other wounds, he’d been stripped to his boxers. The room was freezing, and he had no real protection from that frigid air. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do about it – he’d just have to have chattering teeth as he fought his way to his feet. Once he got moving to find Tony, maybe he’d warm up a little. But first he had to _stand the fuck up_.

The door slammed open, distracting Steve at a crucial moment. As he fell again, he twisted himself toward the door, ignoring the protest that his torso immediately made. Now that it wasn’t closed, Steve became aware of shouting and running feet beyond it – things were clearly a bit chaotic at the moment. Three armored men crowded into his tiny room, two of them taking a post just inside the door – one had a gun, the other a knife. The latter he could maybe handle, but he wasn’t sure he could afford to take another bullet, not with four unhealed holes already in him. Not when he already felt dragged down by invisible weights and it was a fight to think clearly. But they were between him and Tony, those two guards at the door and the third who carried a riffle. They were between him and his Shellhead, and the place was still under attack, so he could do this.

He _had_ to do this.

The third member of this newest set of obstacles began to approach him, glaring menacingly. Steve was pretty sure they were meant to secure him in the room and made sure he stayed there until the attack was over. He hoped like hell that meant it was the Avengers, come to fetch them home.

“Back in the bed,” that third guard ordered gruffly, gesturing with his riffle. That immediately had Steve jutting out his jaw stubbornly, though he knew he couldn’t really back the attitude up. He’d always be that skinny kid who couldn’t breathe, he guessed.

“Fuck… that.” He slurred, pressing his back against the bed to ready himself for another attempt to gain his feet. “Where’s… Tony?”

“Fucking _Stark_ ,” the man spat, only feeding the flames of Steve’s anger. “Knew it was a mistake bringing him in. All his goddamn fault… get back in the bed, Mr. America, or we’ll see how well you recover from a shot to the head. I don’t give a shit if he won’t do the work if you’re hurt, I really don’t. So try me.”

Before Steve could come up with a reply to that, a shot rang out near the door. He fought the urge to look, and was rewarded for the effort when the man only a few steps away _did_ , his attention leaving Steve for a few crucial seconds. When he went for the guard, it wasn’t _really_ an attack – more a poorly coordinated flailing of limbs in his general direction. At first, he was afraid he hadn’t been able to propel himself forward enough – thank Erksine for his growth spurt, or his gamble would have failed. As it was, his legs were able to slam into the guard’s with enough force to make him a little shaky. It sent Steve’s pain level spiking again, but he could ignore that. That brief foray into the past had reminded him that he’d been _born_ with pain. This wasn’t any worse than the winters where the chilly damp settled in his chest and threatened to drown him.

It was the slow movement of his mind and limbs that really had him worried. With cause too, because it took him a beat too long to reach for his guard in an effort to take him to the floor. His punishment was taking the butt of the man’s riffle to his left temple. “Shiii…” Falling back, he fought the darkness that tried to take him again, managing to kick out once as he did. That, thank God, landed on the man’s knee and was enough to send him reeling back. Steve’s eyes followed his progress, and so he couldn’t help but take in what was going on in the doorway. What he saw made him freeze, heart pounding and jaw dropped.

Because that was _Tony_ – his best guy who he’d thought would be defenseless and in danger – grappling with one of his other two guards. The one who’d had the gun was already on the floor in a puddle of blood, making Steve remember that shot he’d heard moments ago. It was amazing, really, and something he hadn’t ever expected but… well. He’d been attracted to Tony for a long time now – since their first meeting in fact – and he’d always thought the armor was beautiful too. This? Tony fighting _outside_ the armor, where Steve could fully appreciate his grace, the bunching of his muscles and the wild, ferocious look on his face?

It was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

Tony had clearly been fighting for a while, and Steve suddenly wondered if the crazy, wonderful genius hadn’t in fact been the one responsible for the explosions. There was a long cut running down his left cheek, dripping blood, starting at his temple and ending at the sharp line of his jaw. A few other, smaller injuries had left smears of red on both arms. He might have been favoring his leg, the one that had been injured before, just a little – but even Steve, who knew it still wasn’t fully healed, couldn’t tell for sure, so hopefully his opponents wouldn’t notice. Every move he made seemed to pack a wallop if the way his opponent flinched at every blow was any indication. Tony hadn’t needed his lessons in self-defense either, because he was using a stance and moves that Steve didn’t even recognize… or maybe that was just a trick of his clouded mind.

All he really knew was that Tony looked fierce and deadly. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, and he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Tony fucking Stark.

Unfortunately, his pause to appreciate his Shellhead had made him completely forget about the guard he’d been trying to deal with on his own. The man had not returned the favor. Steve took another blow to the temple, which wasn’t doing anything to improve his ability to think. Before he could pull himself together enough to react, the man lashed out with the butt of his riffle once more, clearly trusting his fellow to handle Tony. This time, he aimed for the bandage wrapped around Steve’s arm. Agony flared, white-hot but brief, before it settled into a persistent, distracting throb that wouldn’t let him push himself up off the floor even a little. A second blow came to the same area, and he couldn’t help but let out a choked cry; it hurt like a son of a gun, and he was sure the wound had just reopened, leaving him bleeding once more. 

“You _fucker_!” The shout from Tony was more of a snarl than anything, and Steve saw from the guard’s feet that he’d been violently jerked back. Trekking his eyes upward to see what had happened was a long, disorienting process that was well worth the effort when he finally managed. Tony had leaped onto the man’s back, one well-muscled arm wrapped tightly around his neck. As he choked the guard, he was also raining vicious blows down on the side of his head with the other hand. Absolute fury was twisting his features and setting his eyes on fire – he was breathtaking in that moment in more ways than one. Tony resisted every effort on the guard’s part to dislodge him, legs locked as tightly around the man’s waist as his arm was around the man’s neck. There was no quarter given on his part, and the guard’s face was slowly turning a mottled purple. Even when the guard Tony had been fighting at first managed to pick himself up off the ground, he wasn’t able to get Tony to let up in the slightest.

It wasn’t until the guard that had been hitting Steve collapsed to the floor, unconscious, that Tony finally let go. Tony went down with him; as soon as they hit the ground, he swept his leg out to bring the last guard standing down as well. A few quick blows that Steve couldn’t quite see and the man went still. Tony’s harsh breathing was the loudest sound in the room, and he was staring at the guard who’d been attacking Steve with a murderous expression. Steve found he didn’t like that – he didn’t want Tony to kill for him when the fight was already over.

“Shellhead?” His soft call immediately caught Tony’s attention. If the room hadn’t been spinning enough that he was concentrating on not throwing up, he’d have been both pleased and embarrassed at the speed at which the genius was at his side. Tony made a quiet, wounded sound in his throat as he cupped Steve’s face, gently stroking his thumb over his temple. He couldn’t help but wince a little at that – if he wasn’t healing right, he probably had a beauty of a bruise forming now. Moving was harder for him, but he got a hand on Tony’s shoulder, then began to carefully explore the cut running down the man’s face in return. 

Almost as one, their hands dropped, each of them checking on each other’s wounds with gentle hands and soft sounds of distress. In that moment, he hardly registered that Tony was touching his bare skin – he was far too wrapped up in reassuring himself that his Shellhead, his Tony, was alive and safe. Once he was sure none of the man’s injuries were serious, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around the genius in a hard hug; Tony lost not a single moment before returning the gesture. It was long enough and tight enough that Steve felt that press of metal against his chest, the one he’d felt the morning after they’d fallen asleep together. It wasn’t a pendant, he realized in the same instinctual way he’d understood that Tony was Shellhead. That was the arc reactor, in Tony’s chest even though he wasn’t in the armor.

Talk about all of that would have to wait though, until he could think and neither one of them was losing blood. Tony was the one to break the hug, giving Steve a smile that trembled just a little. “Hey cookie crumble. Sorry I was late.”

“Were’n late,” Steve mumbled in protest, rolling his eyes despite the ache it caused. “Got ‘ere… s’all that matters.” Now that the immediate danger was past, his adrenaline was fading and he was starting to feel the cold again. As soon as he started to shiver, Tony bit out a curse and pulled the blanket off the bed, quickly wrapping it around Steve’s shoulders. “S’not fair,” he teased, trying to smile through the various pains plaguing his body. “Y’got ta keep yer clothes.” The fancy jacket, tie and button up shirt were gone, but he’d gotten to keep his dress slacks and white undershirt – Steve would have loved even _one_ such clothing item.

“Dr. Fuckface wasn’t too concerned about _fair_.” Tony returned in a tight voice. “He should never have fucking pumped that shit into you. Might not have used quite so many bombs if he hadn’t.”

“So it _was_ you…”

“Yeah. Idiots gave me tech and walked away.” Steve couldn’t help but snort in amusement, which at least made Tony smile for real. “It’s like they don’t really know who I am.”

“Tony fuckin’ Stark… my Shellhead.” The man’s expression went incredibly soft, and then he pressed his forehead against Steve’s. For a second they lingered there breathing each other’s air as Tony lightly brushed his nose over Steve’s.

“Yeah. Your Shellhead, who’s gotta get his Winghead out of here. I got a message out to J, and the team is on the way… but this building was built shittier than I’d thought, and there are a lot more explosions coming soon. So we need to wait for them outside. That round of ‘booms’ is definitely going to take some walls down.”

“Dunno if I c’n walk,” Steve admitted quietly. “Feel a li’l better, without th’ needle, but…”

“I know, cookie crumble. I’ve got you.”

It took some doing on both their parts, and an explosion halfway through their first attempt put Steve right back on his ass, but eventually they got him to his feet. For the first few steps, he was embarrassed, _ashamed_ even, to be leaning so heavily on Tony. Then the small, fierce genius lashed out with a savage kick to the stomach of the still-unconscious guard who’d hurt Steve, and that made him remember. This was Shellhead. They’d supported each other after countless battles, saved each other’s lives more times than he could remember, and seen each other hurt more often than he’d like. This was familiar, comfortable, natural… though the fact that Tony possessed a vicious streak was news to Steve.

They ran into trouble once on the way out. Much to Steve’s dismay, Tony took a blow meant for him while pushing Steve against the wall. “Stay,” he growled, the hard look in his eyes brooking no argument. Not that he would have made one – he was weak as a kitten anyway, and quite happy for another chance to watch Tony kick ass. He was magnificent, all compact muscle and swift, powerful strikes. God, he could watch the man go at it for hours… sparring sessions between them were certainly going to be more interesting now.

Steve was pretty sure the smile he was wearing was positively goofy, but… he thought he should be allowed to look on the bright side every once in a while. Sure he was hurting and cold, and he just wanted to _sleep_ for a while without some weird virus forcing him to, but getting to see his best guy be so protective of him was pretty great. Almost made up for everything else. Almost.

Tony earned another battle wound in the form of a slash down his abs, but otherwise took the two men they’d stumbled upon down easily. He insisted it wasn’t deep – ‘just a scratch’, he’d said, which was bullshit – but Steve asked him to promise to go to SHIELD medical after they got picked up.

“Of course,” he’d answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Going in with you, Winghead, and I’m not leaving until you’re all healed.”

By the time they made it outside, explosions were again rocking the building, just as Tony had promised. Steve guessed the structure was some kind of abandoned medical facility – it had never stood a chance against Tony’s bombs, even if they were only improvised, homemade ones. The sheer number of explosions was staggering though. Steve arched a brow at him in question, and Tony actually blushed – it was light enough out that he could see it, which meant they’d been gone overnight. “They pissed me off,” Tony muttered with a shrug. “They _never_ should have fucking touched you.”

Maybe it should have bothered him more that Tony was willing to blow a building to hell for him, but it _had_ been a building full of bad guys. So it wasn’t disturbing or upsetting, not really. On the contrary, the knowledge made him feel cared for, cemented his surety that his feelings were returned even if they hadn’t talked about it yet. Really, he was probably lucky Tony hadn’t decided to hunt down and kill everyone in the building before blowing it up, at least if the look he’d been wearing earlier was any indication. Warm affection flooded him, and it was almost enough to stop his shivering – it was dawn or close to it, and it was cold outside. As Tony half-carried to the tree line for a bit of cover, Steve allowed himself to turn towards the man and tuck his body snugly against Tony’s.

Despite everything, Steve felt completely safe when Tony lowered them both to the ground to wait for the team. Tony could protect them both until the other Avengers arrived, even without the armor – he’d proved that. “Easy cookie crumble – rest against me, not that cold, rough tree. That virus Dr. Fuckface created is a nasty piece of work. He was messing with some crazy shit, Winghead – it’s strong enough to fight against the serum’s efforts to heal you and keep you from getting sick. It’s going to take some time to work itself out of your system, and you’re not gonna feel great while that happens.” Even while he spoke, Tony was drawing Steve against him, supporting him without hesitation. Once that was done, he went a step further and gently pulled Steve’s head down to his shoulder and began to stroke his hair. “I’ve got you, so you can rest – you don’t have to be awake for this. The others will be here soon.”

“Mmm,” Steve answered vaguely. He couldn’t help but shiver, the wind cutting through the thin blanket that was his only protection from the elements. “Cold. Hate the cold.” 

“I know, Winghead. I know.” And he _did_ , because they’d talked about it, late at night before he’d even known his Shellhead was also his Tony. So the man already knew about his nightmares and the way the ice was only ever a bad moment away from wrapping around him. He knew that Steve had always been cold before the serum, and how much it sometimes scared Steve to feel that way now that he was a super soldier; sometimes it seemed as if it were the first sign that the serum was finally wearing off and would fade away, leaving him weak and sick and unable to help anyone. Tony _knew_.

So Steve stopped trying to hold onto his last shred of dignity. He practically crawled into the other man’s lap, making a sound of gratitude when Tony instantly wrapped him up in his arms. The genius started rubbing his hands briskly over his arms and back, trying to help him warm up a little. Happier than he could say to let him do it, Steve tucked his face against Tony’s neck and let his eyes drift shut. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anything for you, cookie crumble. I meant it – sleep if you need to. We can get you on the Quinjet no problem.”

He wanted to protest, wanted to at least stay awake with Tony while they waited, but… he was so tired. He was tired and cold, and he ached, and Tony was there to keep him safe and make sure he got warm before he froze solid for another seventy years.

So for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Steve passed out in Tony’s arms.

~.~.~

The third time he woke from an unwilling slumber was infinitely more pleasant. There was only a dim echo of pain, his bed was soft and warm, and there was a hand running through his hair that he knew instantly belonged to Nat. As he woke further, he realized that she was singly softly in Russian – it was a lullaby Steve had heard her quietly croon to Clint when he was injured. He himself had never been comforted by her this way before, but he found he liked it.

“… this doesn’t mean I’m dying, right?” Steve asked in a hoarse voice, not opening his eyes. He was sure he was smiling a bit too wide given the situation, but he couldn’t stop. Especially not after she flicked his ear in what he knew was a show of exasperated affection.

“Never interrupt a Russian lullaby, Steve. Baba Yaga will come for you in the night to punish such rudeness.” When he opened his eyes, it was to find her ready with a glass of water with a straw. She helped him sit up enough that he could drink easily; he sucked down half the glass before falling back on his pillow. Steve felt so much better, but he was still tired – he hoped they would release him so he could rest at home.

“Tony?” Wordlessly, she stepped to the side, letting him get a good look at that side of the room. There before the door, slumped down in an uncomfortable chair and obviously sleeping, was Tony Stark. His first urge was to get up and check on him, but Nat knew his mind too well. She had a hand on his shoulder that was gentle for now, but would turn to steel if he tried to do so much as sit. “Is he… he was hurt, Nat. Did he let someone look at him?”

“He’s fine, Steve. A few cuts and scrapes, some more serious than others, but he got off easy. I don’t think they expected him to fight back, which meant he had the element of surprise on his side.” He nodded absently, his eyes roving over Tony’s sleeping form, trying to reassure himself that everything was okay. The man was definitely breathing, he could see that much, as well as a bandage covering that awful cut on his cheek. He was fine, and Steve would get to talk to him soon, so he could relax and-

The strangled sound that escaped his throat when he saw that Tony was wearing one of the Iron Man gauntlets was incredibly unattractive. It also brought on a coughing fit that prompted Nat to raise his bed so he was sitting more than laying down before she forced him to drink the rest of the water. “Why… what…” He’d honestly thought Tony would want to keep it secret – he’d thought it would be their secret. It was one Steve would hate to keep from the team, but he would have done it for his Shellhead… but maybe he’d been wrong.

“He _really_ didn’t like one of the nurses,” Nat told him when he finally got himself under control again. “She kept turning down the heat in your first room and taking away your extra blankets – she was afraid you’d overheat, I think. Tony asked her once and warned her the second time. When she tried the third time… well. The gauntlet came through one of the walls a couple seconds later and missed hitting her by maybe a foot. Soon as Tony had it on, he fired – singed her hair.” Though her face was solemn, a hint of a reprimand there, her eyes were sparkling with delight. “She fainted, we moved you to a new room, and now he’s guarding you from overzealous nurses who might accidentally make you shiver.”

Steve honestly wasn’t sure if he was more pleased or embarrassed. Either way, he was blushing brightly as he burrowed further under his covers. He had about five of them, he realized suddenly, and he could hear the heat running in the background – Tony had made sure of that. His Shellhead knew how he felt about the cold, and he’d made sure that Steve wouldn’t be anything but toasty warm when he woke.

“Fury was not pleased – he’s been trying to trick Tony into admitting he’s Iron Man for a long time now. He’s laid a lot of very clever traps, you know. I was one of them, and even I couldn’t get any concrete evidence.”

“But you had a feeling?”

“Yes.” Steve’s eyes narrowed as he watched her, annoyance warring with his fondness for her.

“So that theory about him _dating_ my Shellhead in the past?”

“Purely for the purpose of making you squirm. It was one of my early theories, but it became clear pretty quickly that wasn’t the case.”

“You… you’re an evil woman, you know that? Do you have any idea-”

“You thought it was hot, Steve, don’t deny it. Clint and I have a bet running on how many times you-”

“I don’t want to know!” He interrupted quickly, blushing again. “And stop making bets like that, if you please. It’s inappropriate.”

“And highly entertaining.”

“Nat.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Clint to come up with something equally amusing for us to spend our time on.”

“… bets are fine.”

“I thought you’d see it my way. Now, as I was saying. Fury wove multiple webs to capture Tony Stark – he thought he could manipulate him if he had proof that he actually was Iron Man. Don’t growl,” Steve hadn’t realized he was, but he stopped immediately, ducking his head away from her too-knowing, too-amused gaze. “I don’t think Tony would have allowed it. And his masks were good – very good. So Fury has essentially been chasing his tail on the issue of Iron Man… and you got him to reveal himself just by laying there. He’s _furious_. The next few briefings are going to be a lot of fun.”

“Your idea of fun only backs up my ‘you are evil’ theory. How… how is everyone else reacting?”

“Thor said he knew, and just didn’t want to put his noble shield brother in an awkward position by asking – not sure if he’s serious or trolling us. Bruce just sort of shrugged, but he’s been busy working on the virus that was in your blood, so he might not have had time to process the information. Clint…” Steve couldn’t help but wince; the blond archer was who he’d really been worried about. “Clint is tickled pink. His ‘sugar daddy’ frequently catches him when he jumps off buildings fifty stories high. You know how he and Iron Man could get before, and now-”

“Oh my God.”

“Exactly.”

“They’re not allowed to spend time together outside of battle situations.”

“Good luck enforcing that one, Captain.” Steve groaned, but he didn’t _really_ mean it. Yes, Tony and Clint joining forces was going to be trouble – a lot of trouble. So much trouble, and so many pranks, and all kinds of shenanigans that he would have to pretend not to be amused by. But he’d much, much rather they be friends, because he cared about them both. And he knew their opinions were important to Tony, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. It would have killed the genius if Clint snubbed him once he’d learned the truth. So he could handle the trouble their friendship would bring. And maybe if he asked Tony really, really nicely, he’d at least provide advance notice on anything big the two were going to pull.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the friendly silence that had fallen between them; Steve hoped they were coming to check on him so he could wake Tony up and get the hell outta here. It turned out that first part was unnecessary, however – as soon as the door opened, Tony was on his feet, palm extended in the classic Iron Man pose. That was incredibly endearing and hilarious at the same time… at least until the whine of the repulsor powering up hit his ears. Thankfully he didn’t fire, but the nurse in the doorway looked terrified, her eyes wide and her hands in the air.

“I’m not going to take his blankets!”

That was Steve’s breaking point – he began to laugh, loud and hard, head tipped back and his eyes closed. That was Tony Stark, wearing the same clothes he had while they were captured, looking like hell and threatening a SHIELD nurse with his repulsor on behalf of Steve’s _blankets_. It was ridiculous, adorable, and the best thing he’d ever fucking seen. Laughing was the only possible response, because Tony was too far away to kiss. He heard Nat beginning to chuckle beside him which only spurred him on; he laughed for a long, long time. Part of it was relief, he was sure, that they were both alive and safe, and that Tony hadn’t run away and hidden from him.

When he finally calmed and opened his eyes, Tony was standing at his other side, pouting down at him with his arms crossed over his chest. God, he was the most adorable, badass, beautiful man Steve had ever known. He mostly ignored the nurse as she surveyed the machines he was hooked up to and asked her questions – he kept his eyes on Tony’s, smiling at the man warmly. After a minute or two, Tony relented and softened his stance, clearly fighting a smile of his own. Nat left with the nurse who was off to fetch a doctor, one that would hopefully release Steve so he could get back to the tower. From the redhead’s meaningful look as she closed the door behind her, he suspected she was going to make sure they weren’t bothered for a few minutes so they could have some privacy.

Neither of them spoke for several heartbeats; Steve had expected to let Tony talk first, until he realized that every second that ticked by without his voice, his Shellhead seemed to be shrinking in on himself. That got a reaction out of him, but it wasn’t words, oh no. He sat up a little further, cleared his throat… then reached out and grabbed Tony, dragging him onto the bed and then into his lap. “Steve!” Tony squawked, looking torn between anger and laughter. “What are you… let me go, you big oaf!” 

“Nope.” Steve said with a grin, well aware his flippant answer would make Tony glare at him. “Get comfy doll, because I’m not letting you go until the doctor makes me.” The genius scowled mightily and tried half-heartedly to get away, but Steve kept one arm securely around his waist – he was pretty sure if he let go now, Tony would run as far away as he possibly could. After a few mumbled complaints, his Shellhead settled, straddling his thighs. It was… well, it was more intimate than Steve had really thought it would be, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“If you’re mad about the blankets thing-”

“Hmmm… nope.” Lifting his free hand, he tenderly ran his fingers over Tony’s cheek, taking in the stubble he’d yet to shave off and the small cuts Steve hadn’t seen earlier. “Though you should maybe apologize to the nurse. Not mad ‘bout it. You were takin’ care-a me.” He trailed his fingers down along Tony’s jaw, then moved to his throat, where he could feel Tony’s heart beating wildly. Smiling, he shifted so he was holding the nape of the other man’s neck; he loved the way it made Tony blush and inhale sharply.

“Uh… the, uh… the bombs then? If you’re mad about that, then… uh…”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that, leaning in to press his forehead to Tony’s. “Why’d I be mad? You got us out.”

“Well, uh… recklessness? You sometimes yell if I get reckless.”

“Don’t wanna yell ‘bout it, no. ‘M not mad about the bombs, Shellhead.”

“O-oh. Then. Well. You must be, uh. Mad about that, right? The, uh, Iron Man thing?”

“For a genius, you sure can be dumb.” He brushed his nose over Tony’s, echoing the gesture the man had made when he’d found Steve earlier in the day. Then he tipped his head back to press a kiss to the tip of Tony’s nose, grinning when that made him jump. “No, I’m not mad that you’re my Shellhead, Tony.” As he leaned closer, bringing his mouth to Tony’s ear, he made sure their cheeks just barely touched the whole way. “I like that you’re the same person, Tony. I like knowing that it’s _you_ I’ve been fighting side-by-side with. I like that you know me inside and out. I _love_ that you’re already mine, Tony. My Shellhead.” He could feel Tony shivering, and he knew damn well it wasn’t from the cold – it was hard not to feel a little smug over the man’s reaction to him.

“You’re not even fucking blushing. That’s not fair, Winghead. I’m supposed to be the smooth one here. So if you could go back to being a-”

“Spazz?”

“You’re not a spazz. You are the farthest thing from a spazz.”

“Not around you. With you I was always… I never got anything right, and I didn’t know how to fix it. You were… I thought you were out of my league, but I still wanted…”

“You _have_ to be mad about that, cookie crumble. You… you told Iron Man how you felt about me, and that meant you were really telling me, so I knew about it, and then I picked a fight with you, and then I… ah… o-oh.” Steve hadn’t really meant to trail his lips down Tony’s jaw – they hadn’t even properly kissed yet! – but he just couldn’t help it. Not when he knew _why_ Tony had picked that fight. He hadn’t thought he deserved Steve. Hell, Tony didn’t even think he deserved to be Iron Man from what he’d seen. So of course he’d tried to scare him away. It was Tony trying to take care of him yet again, even if he’d gone about it all wrong.

“Do you want me to be mad at you Tony?” As he asked, he put his forehead to Tony’s again, giving a soft sigh of happiness. “Because I can try to be later, if you really want.”

“I don’t… you’re not… you’re supposed to be upset.” Tony protested, his voice coming out a hoarse whisper. “I thought… you were so easy about it earlier, but I thought when you weren’t loopy anymore… I’m not a great catch Steve. I’m old, older than you – too old. And I’m… you’ve heard the stories. I don’t sleep around much anymore, but back in the day I… well. And then there’s the weapons, and the whole ‘Merchant of Death’ thing, and you’re so _good_ Steve, and I’m just… I’m not. You deserve someone better.”

“Nope.” Steve brushed a tentative kiss against the corner of Tony’s mouth, then pulled back to gauge his reaction. The man’s eyes were wide, lips parted in shock… but there was also a hint of a flush on his cheeks and a bit of pleasure hidden in his expression. “I deserve you.”

“Steve.”

“Tony.”

“You’re impossible, Winghead.”

“Back at you, Shellhead.” Tony’s hands had been on his own thighs through the whole exchange; Steve was gratified when he pulled off the Iron Man gauntlet before tentatively bringing both to Steve’s shoulders. A moment later, one hand slid up and buried itself in Steve’s hair as he chewed on his lower lip.

“You’re not allowed to treat me differently in the field. I’m… it’s still Iron Man out there, no matter how you feel about me. So-”

“So I’ll still save your ass and you’ll save mine, and we’ll be recklessly protective of each other and shout at each other about it. We’ll lead the Avengers together, and they’ll tease us about the hug-and-fly and how we’re team parents.”

“Y-yeah. I guess. I mean…”

“I think Clint might have been right,” he told Tony ruefully, shaking his head. “I think Captain America and Iron Man have been dating for a while – it just took us a little longer to catch up. I mean.” Suddenly Steve’s confidence deserted him, because Tony still hadn’t really… said anything. He’d hinted, and he certainly didn’t seem averse to Steve’s attention, but he hadn’t _said_ it. Maybe he didn’t even want to try this, and Steve was just making himself look like an ass. “If ya wanted, ‘cause I… I’d like ta ration ya, you see, ‘n so if’n ya wanted, we could… I could…”

“You… you still want to?”

“Yeah. I really, really do.”

“I… I didn’t… you really weren’t supposed to like me, cookie crumble.”

“Why’d ya start callin’ me that?” Tony instantly turned bright red and looked away, shoulders hitching up a little. Thankfully, he didn’t take his hands off Steve or try to leave his lap.

“I’ll… tell you later. Not here. I – the nurse was coming back with the doctor, wasn’t she? So they’ll be here soon, and then we can take you home, and I really think we should maybe finish this conversation at home, don’t you? Because I do, you know, like you more than I should and you like me more than I thought you ever could, even when I’m not Iron Man, so maybe we could, uh. Date. Go dancing maybe, without having to go to a stupid event first, because I did like dancing with you, and you weren’t nearly as bad as you thought you would be. And it meant a lot, what you said before we did, about how… how you wanted your first time to be special, and not with anyone but me, and I just would really like to take you, if you’re absolutely sure you want this. You don’t… I mean, I just… if you don’t really want to, that would be… fine. We’d still be friends – best friends, because you really are a good friend, and that could be enough if… if that’s what you need to do. But I would… really like to go dancing. And do all that other couple stuff, the stuff I never… I mean, ‘dating’ Tony Stark usually just involves the bedroom and really awkward, expensive gestures on my part, but we don’t have to go right to the bedroom even though I’d really… that’s not important. Just, we’ll go as slow as you want, and I’ll do my best not to buy fruit you’re allergic to, and my God I’m going to fuck this up, Steve. I’m going to fuck this up and you’re going to hate me, and-”

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

This time there was no Happy to interrupt them, no audience that Steve was worried about intruding on their moment, and no bullets whizzing through the air. This time, when Steve caught Tony’s jaw carefully in his hand and tipped his head back, nothing stopped them. He felt and heard Tony’s breath catch, and the man swayed towards him, giving his silent permission and that shy smile that Steve knew was just for him.

Steve paused just before capturing Tony’s lips with his own, running his eyes over Tony’s face and locking his expression away in his memory to keep forever. The genius’ breath was moving over his lips, and they were so _close_ , and it was finally, finally going to happen. Steve knew his mouth was trembling when he fitted it against Tony’s, but that didn’t last long because the kiss was perfectly imperfect and everything he’d ever thought it could be. The heartbeat before they both found the right angle made them both smile; the way both of them had chapped lips made it feel real and raw. For a little while, it was only a press of lips, a way to be close – a way to make and seal a promise.

Then Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, and he couldn’t help but pull the man in tighter in response. The kiss turned sweet, and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of Tony’s taste, or how the man clung to him, or the way he smelled, or… or anything about the man, really. He’d never stop wanting, craving, _needing_ Tony, and he hoped like hell that this kiss was only the beginning. Just before he pulled away, Tony’s mouth opened to let his tongue glide over Steve’s lower lip, adding just a hint of heat and passion. Before he could return the favor, it was over, both of then breathing in the same space, eyes meeting and holding.

His one kiss with Peggy had been hard and desperate, because they’d thought they would have time for softness later. The blond dame that had ambushed him had been hungry and demanding, not letting Steve do much more than hold on. And there’d been one soldier whose kisses had always been hurried and desperate in a different way than Peggy’s, because the only moments they’d had were both stolen and technically illegal. It was the first time he’d had anything so slow, so sweet… and he couldn’t believe what he’d been missing out on. Tony seemed to read some of that in his face, because his expression went even softer before he leaned in to give Steve another tender kiss, hands coming to frame Steve’s face like he was something precious. This time when they broke apart, Steve hid his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing him in and holding him close as the man stroked his hair and murmured quiet nothings against his temple.

They were still sitting that way when Nat allowed the nurse to reenter the room with the doctor in tow. Even after a few pointedly cleared throats, Steve decided he didn’t particularly want to let go of Tony. If they didn’t like it, well… he was Captain America, and they could fight him about it.

In deference to any delicate sensibilities, he did have Tony turn around and sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest and Steve’s arms both wrapped around his waist. The doctor looked annoyed but willing to ignore his quirks while the nurse was more interested in shooting fearful looks at the Iron Man gauntlet that was laying on the bed, pressed against Steve’s right thigh. Nat was clearly amused and probably taking pictures on her phone, and Tony… Tony looked downright smug about where he found himself, tapping away on the phone someone had brought him and (Steve was pretty sure) taking a few sneaky pictures of his own.

No Avenger liked being stuck in medical, but Steve thought that if this was a preview of what it would be like now that he had Tony he might not mind it so much anymore. Not even Clint could ruin his good mood when he walked in and promptly began making gagging noises. Because he was a menace who also hated medical and doctors more than anyone else, he then switched his tune and joined them in the bed, declaring it time for an ‘Avengers family dog pile’; Steve knew he just wanted to be close so he could make sure the doc didn’t do anything he deemed fishy. If he also managed to annoy Steve and Tony in the process, that was a great bonus. For the last few minutes, much to the doctor’s irritation, Nat even joined in, though she didn’t cuddle up to Steve like Tony and Clint were. She more draped herself over all three of them and expected them to hold her up without disturbing her in the slightest.

After Tony apologized for frightening her, the nurse offered to take a picture of them. Steve wasn’t sure if anyone else realized it, but it was Tony’s first official Avengers photo where he was a known member of the team. That the captured moment showed his Shellhead, happy and relaxed in his arms, with Steve’s lips pressed to his temple, probably shouldn’t please him as much as it did, but… well. He was starting to accept the possessive streak that Tony seemed to draw out of him – had always drawn out of him.

Once that was done, Steve was released to go back to Avengers Tower. There, he knew, Thor would be shown the picture and pout over the fact that he and Bruce hadn’t been included. The scientist would be forced to join their reenactment against his will, they’d all bitch about it but give in and do it because they did actually like each other, and JARVIS would be the one to take that picture… and _Tony_ would still be there, unmasked, smiling, and his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was supposed to only be one more chapter, but I realized that Steve still does not really know/understand about the arc reactor... which I feel like will be a MUCH bigger issue for him than anything else. So while they were supposed to have a Talk in this chapter and the next was going to be fuzzy, this one ended up fuzzy and the next will have the last bit of plot, and then there may be an unplanned chapter with more fluff just because I can. XD
> 
> However, I tried to make this chapter feel almost like an ending, because I need to look at some of my other projects for a bit. ^.^; I don't think it'll be _too_ long before I update this story again, but I didn't want to have a cliff-hanger type scenario going on. :D 
> 
> Speaking of... does anyone know how to do Tumblr coding? I have a side-project I've been tinkering with for my series [After the End](http://archiveofourown.org/series/619858). I was originally going to put it up on this site, but I thiiiiink I want to do it as a side-blog on Tumblr instead... but I don't know a thing about customizing blogs. D: I need a bit of help to get it going, and if anyone was willing to help me out, I'd be more than happy to write a few one-shots of their choice - they can be unrelated to my other stuff, or I could flesh out a universe I've been writing in if they prefer. If you're interested, please contact me on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/)! Thaaaanks!


	14. Endings and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. I FINALLY FINISHED IT.
> 
> I have been so neglectful of this fic, and I feel so bad. ;.; I'm not sure if I quite got back into the swing of things, but I brought it to a fluffy, sappy, sweet ending that both these boys (imo) deserve.
> 
> I could, perhaps, be convinced to do extra scenes in this 'verse if people are interested.
> 
> Commentses mebbe?

Steve could have walked perfectly well on his own - the last of the dizzy feelings and the sluggishness had faded even before he'd left the hospital. All his wounds had healed, though there was a lingering soreness, and he'd have made it just fine. He maybe should have said something, because maybe keeping his mouth shut had kind of been a lie but... the short-of-maybe lying about it had gotten him Tony's well-muscled arm wrapped around him to 'stabilize' him. And he didn't need to be leaning on Tony the way he was either, not really, not at all, but it felt nice. Better than nice actually. Great was closer, but still not quite right. He didn't want it to end, so he maybe added to the lie a little bit - only a little! And very guiltily! He was just worried that if he didn't throw in a bit of a stumble here and there, Tony might realize he didn't need the support and pull away. So yeah, there was an occasional intentional trip, and from the way Nat was looking at him he wasn't being very subtle with the deception.

Tony didn't seem to mind even if he noticed though, so it was fine.

He begged off visiting the common floor, citing his exhaustion - nobody pushed that hard anyway. When he didn't hit the button for his own floor, Clint was the only one who said anything. Or he tried to, anyway, before Natasha hit him upside the head with a warning look. It was nice, knowing she was in his corner. She was a good person to have on your side, after all. He and Tony hadn't really spoken all the way to the tower, and even after everyone else was off the elevator they didn't start talking. It was a silence that wasn't quite tense or awkward, but it was starting to edge in that direction. Steve might have been worried, but he took heart in the way that they were still touching. Sure he was leaning back against the wall instead of Tony, but the other man had taken his hand before they were even a floor up. He was having a lot of trouble not beaming, if he were being honest with himself.

Steve was trying to figure out what he wanted to _say_ once they reached the penthouse, because he was worried he was going to fuck this up. Maybe things had gone well at the hospital, but he had a long, long history of fucking up with his words when he talked to Tony. If he thought about him as Iron Man, his best friend and staunch ally, it felt a little easier. At the same time, he'd never thought about Iron Man in a romantic way, and he didn't want to fall into the habit of treating Tony _only_ like a friend, because he was definitely interested in more kisses and holding hands and dating. He'd definitely like to go on dates with him, maybe even dancing, so he needed to treat Tony like a friend but also like more, and he was sure his mouth and his brain were going to fight about the best way to do that.

Tony's hand in his was the only thing keeping him from running away so he could strategize and plan and figure out how to approach this correctly. The touch was anchoring him, reminding him that Tony was probably just as nervous. If he ran now - even just to figure out how to do this perfectly - he had a feeling he'd lose this. It felt like such a fragile thing, what was starting between them. Steve was terrified he'd do something on accident that would break it. Then he'd lose Tony _and_ Iron Man, and it would kill him. 

When the elevator doors slid open, he looked down at Tony who was looking up at him. The smile on his face felt a little shaky and unsure, but Tony still returned it. Steve couldn't help but give his hand a squeeze, and they stepped off onto Tony's floor together.

"Welcome home Sir, Captain Rogers," JARVIS sounded relieved, and Steve realized that he must have been worried. The AI was always looking after Tony, so to be unable to reach him or find him had probably freaked him out a little. It might even have reminded him of the time Tony went missing in Afghanistan, and Steve found himself hurting for JARVIS. Especially when he realized that JARVIS really looked after all of them. He'd been there for Steve when no one else was, and he knew the AI helped all of the Avengers when sleep evaded them. So JARVIS had lost both of them, and he must have hated it.

"Thanks Jay," Tony answered quietly. "Good to be home. Do me a favor and put this floor on lockdown?"

"This floor does not have that feature, Sir. If you mean that you would like me to keep everyone else out," he couldn't help but smile as the AI shifted from relieved to snarky. "Then I will do my best. Though Master Barton continues to show a dismaying love of crawling through the vents and I doubt I could keep Miss Natasha from sneaking in if she truly wished to without deploying potentially lethal countermeasures."

"Duly noted. I'm hungry. Steve - are you hungry? Because I could eat a horse. You know, it's weird how people will _say_ that, but even a hint of a suggestion that there might be a tiny amount of horse meat in burgers and everyone goes insane. Burgers sound good, but I think pizza would be better," Tony continued, not letting Steve get a word in edgewise. He could practically feel nervous tension rolling off his guy - was Tony his guy? Steve was pretty sure that was what they'd decided in the hospital, but Tony was just talking and talking, and he'd dropped Steve's hand so he could restlessly stalk around the room. "Jay, send an order to Steve's favorite place, okay? Get his regular order and maybe add something simple for me. Pepperoni and sausage, maybe. You know why people get all upset? It's because horses are pretty, and we know they're intelligent. It's easier to tell ourselves that cows and pigs are just dumb and not as cute, so we'll eat them. Pigs are actually pretty damn smart, you know. Too smart for what we do to them. Cows probably are too. Chickens are dumb, gross little shits, but they still don't really deserve what we... uh. We didn't really come up here to talk about this."

"Nope," he agreed easily, though he was feeling himself tense up in response to Tony's nerves. "But we can, if you want." Steve felt like he was dealing with a skittish horse, sort of... and he decided the best way to handle this was to let Tony come to him. Keeping his movements slow and calm, he headed for the couch that was in the center of the living space and eased himself down onto it. He wasn't quite able to hide a wince - while he could walk, he was still just a touch sore whenever he had to stand or sit. The couch itself was surprisingly comfortable. It looked like a sleek, hard, modern monstrosity, but he ended up giving a sigh that was pure pleasure as he sank onto it and leaned back.

"No, that's not... I don't want to talk about animal slaughtering, _Steven_ ," and wow, Tony sounded awful exasperated for a guy who'd been the one to bring the subject up in the first place. "That isn't why... is pizza okay? I didn't actually let you, you know. Answer me. I just figured - pizza! Who doesn't love pizza? So I just... but I didn't let you say if you didn't. Fuck. Sorry Steve. Jay, could you put the kibosh on th--"

"Ignore that, JARVIS." Steve hated interrupting, but Tony was tying himself all up into knots, and he didn't want that. "Pizza's fine."

"Of course, Captain Rogers. Shall I have the delivery driver come directly to this floor, or...?" Steve didn't know why the AI was asking him. Well, scratch that, because Tony had wandered into the kitchen and seemed intent on opening every cupboard and drawer for lack of anything else to do.

"Nah. We're on a Tony-ordered lock-down, remember? Have them use the system you set up please." It had been a Godsend, really, not having to see every delivery person every time they ordered out - which was more often than they should. The system JARVIS had implemented meant the driver still got tipped very well and that none of the Avengers had to deal with any gawking or questions when they were tired and just wanted to eat.

"Excellent idea, Captain Rogers. I will let you know when your order arrives."

"Thanks." Steve directed his attention back to Tony, who had finished his cupboard inspection and had moved on to running his hands over the walls - they were lightly textured, Steve noticed suddenly. It probably felt nice, maybe even soothing, to the touch, and Mary Mother of God, he just wanted to wrap Tony up in his arms and promise that he didn't need to be so nervous. "Hey," he called quietly, not wanting to startle him. The other man still jumped a little, eyes wide and a little wild when they met Steve's own. "Do you wanna maybe come sit down? You don't have to," he added quickly, not sure if Tony maybe _needed_ to keep moving to drain off some of his tension. He couldn't tell if it was helping or only winding Tony up tighter. "But if you wanted to maybe sit, I'd like the company. Don't even have to talk. We could just put on a movie or somethin'."

Tony seemed torn and had started to chew on his lower lip, and Steve suddenly wondered if maybe he shouldn't have come up to the penthouse after all. He'd thought it would be for the best, and he wanted to spend some time with the guy who he'd thought had agreed to date him. But now that same guy seemed to be keen on avoiding him - maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe Tony needed some time to think after all. Maybe-

While he was lost in thought, Tony had wandered his way and plopped down next to him on the couch. He looked shy and uncertain, but he was there. Trying not to smile too hard, Steve sidled a little closer and slowly, carefully, draped his arm over Tony's shoulder. "Is this okay?" he murmured, searching the other man's expression.

"... yeah," was the answer he got long moments later. "It's fine. Good even. Yeah, good. Good almost covers it - great might be even better." Tony let himself be drawn against Steve's chest and even settled his head on Steve's shoulder. Still trying to keep his smile under control, he turned his head and buried his nose in that dark head of hair. Tony smelled good, better than Steve thought he probably did - of course, Tony'd had the chance to shower and he hadn't. "How are you feeling, Steve? Are you okay? They said you were mostly healed, but I didn't like that 'mostly' part. What does that even mean? Does it mean we should be watching you? Should you be resting and not eating? Should we try to find some kind of medicine that'll relieve your pain again? Just because nothing's ever worked doesn't mean I won't eventually crack the code, Steve. I think maybe Bruce and I are really on to something. Remember when I made you those tiny, tiny robots to help you if you get shot?"

"How could I forget? That was the first time you let me make you breakfast."

"O-oh. Right. That was... it was a really good breakfast, cookie crumble. Probably the best I've had. The time with the pancakes might have been able to beat it, except that I was, you know, really pissed off at you then. Well, not so much pissed off as... I didn't need your help with this, you know," he interrupted himself, voice suddenly hard. "The villain was so shitty that even if I wasn't Iron Man I probably could have taken him. You and the others didn't need to butt in to my business, not even a little bit. And look what happened because you did! Steve, you could have _died_ , and it would have been--" Tony's voice cracked, and it cracked Steve's heart a little along with it. After clearing his throat, the other man continued, his hand going to Steve's chest to grasp at his shirt. "You could have died, and then I wouldn't have been able to tell you--"

Tony's head turned enough that he could hide his face in Steve's neck, and it was all enough to wipe the too-big smile off Steve's face. Tony seemed pretty genuinely distressed, and Steve _hated_ the thought that he was the reason for it. As he ran his hand soothingly up and down Tony's back, he weighed a few different options in his mind before settling on one. He wasn't quite as careful as he had been earlier when he pulled Tony sideways into his lap. "I couldn't not butt in, Tony," he murmured against the crown of the man's head. "I'm real sweet on you, in case you missed it," Tony only snorted, before tightening his hold on Steve's shirt. "I know maybe you aren't as sweet on me--"

"I am so!" Tony interrupted forcefully. "I'm so sweet on... no. That's not the way I'm going to describe it. If I do I'll get cavities. I like you a lot, Steve, so don't you dare say that I'm not as into you as much as you're into me."

The declaration soothed a knot of tension that had lodged itself in Steve's chest. "Okay. So you're into me. That's... that's kind of amazing, Tony. I never thought that you could... sorry, that's not the point right now. Would you have left me to handle... I dunno. If Hydra resurfaced, would you just say 'oh, he can handle it on his own?"

"Of course not! Steve, I would never," Tony told him fiercely, not seeming to realize right away that he'd backed himself into a corner. "If you're ever in trouble, I'd be right there. I'm in your corner - you know that. We've been fighting together for so long, and I'd do anything to--" He came to an abrupt stop, and Tony felt him go a little stiff in his arms. "Okay. Alright, I see what you did there cookie crumble. But that's completely different!"

"No it isn't. I couldn't-a lived with myself if I'd-a just left ya ta figure it all out by your lonesome. Even before I know you were Iron Man, I wanted to fight in your corner, Tony. I had to help ya - couldn't have lived with myself otherwise. I'm with you, alright? One-hundred percent, whether you like it or not. I won't ever leave ya ta fight against evil on your own. Even if it's incompetent evil. Got it?"

"Yeah. I guess... I guess I do. Don't agree with it, since you're way more impor--" Steve covered Tony's mouth lightly with one hand, sighing heavily.

"We're both just as important, ya mook. Now I got a question for you," he added, dropping his hand once he was sure Tony wouldn't start badmouthing himself.

"What's that cookie crumble?"

"That, actually. You said you would tell me why you started calling me that."

"Oh. That. Uh. Okay. Well look. You... you had told Iron Man that you, you know, liked me. That you wanted to. Ahem. Date me. Which is so dumb, you could do so much better, but fine. Whatever. And I felt... I _knew_ you could do better, but you didn't want to which was kind of infuriating, and I didn't even know you _liked_ me as Tony Stark, because you were always... I don't know. You never really gave me any reason to... if anything, I thought maybe you might have had a crush on Iron Man, and that would have been enough, you know? Nothing could have ever happened, but if I'd found out that you wanted to be romantic and shit with Iron Man, I'd have been so honored and just... I don't know. It would have been better, Steve."

"I'm gonna ignore all that bad talk about you as Tony, because I'm pretty sure you're embarrassed and trying to distract me."

"You weren't supposed to realize that."

"Sorry ta disappoint, Shellhead," he teased gently, giving Tony a squeeze. The other man seemed to relax at the nickname, and he gave a quiet sigh before nuzzling Steve's neck.

"I don't think you could ever disappoint me, Winghead," he whispered, making something warm and tender wrap around Steve's heart. "Okay. So. Cookie crumble. Um. You were being so sweet, you know? But I didn't want you to know that I..." Tony paused, and he was pretty sure he heard the guy gulp. "I didn't want you to know how much I. You know. Care about you." Steve couldn't help the wounded noise that escaped. Tony was instantly snuggling closer, hands running over Steve's chest and his lips pressed lightly to the underside of Steve's jaw. After a few seconds, Tony started to talk against his skin, words coming faster than they had been before. "I do though, Steve, I care about you so... _so_ much. I have for a long time, you know? I loved hanging out with you as Iron Man, but it hurt too, because I thought... and then you told Iron Man... me... Iron Man that you _liked_ me. And I just. I couldn't. I couldn't let you know that I liked you back, because I was worried that if I did then you'd find out about Iron Man, and I thought that when you found that out you'd hate me because, you know, with the lying and the you telling me that you liked me and me having to pretend that I didn't know. And I kept almost calling you Winghead, so I needed _something_ for when you made me feel all... all warm and gooey and fond of you and shit. So I didn't slip. That's why... you know. Cookie crumble."

"Tony," he murmured, hurting a little for the man he loved. Taking a chance, he hooked his fingers under Tony's chin and ran his thumb over the man's jaw. He liked the feel of Tony's beard, he decided with a smile. Ducking his head, he caught Tony's mouth in a slow, careful kiss - he was more glad than he could say his guy didn't pull away or seem hesitant to return it. The man's cologne filled his nose, and Steve could feel Tony's warmth curling around him. It was perfect, really, and he didn't want it to ever end.

But he also wanted to know what 'cookie crumble' _meant_.

When he broke the kiss, Steve kept his forehead pressed to Tony's, keeping their conversation soft and intimate. "You make me feel warm and gooey too, Tony. That's why I was always fucking everything up. I was so sure I didn't have a chance with you, and I didn't want to embarrass either of us by throwing my feelings out there. Your method is way better than mine. I couldn't stop being an ass to you; you just gave me a nickname I love. You had a way better idea than me. Where did my nickname come from, Tony?"

"Uhm. Well. I already said that you were being, you know. Sweet. Annoying as hell with all that bodyguard bullshit, but sweet. But I couldn't call you 'sweetie' or 'sweetheart' or something," well, he could have and Steve would have liked it, but he knew what Tony meant. "My favorite sweet thing is... this sounds so stupid. But you know the crumbly things on the top of blueberry muffins?" When Steve murmured an affirmative, Tony kept going. "Well yeah. I love it. It's the reason I love blueberry muffins, which is why I started liking blueberries so much. But I couldn't... crumble was such a dumb name by itself. I didn't think you'd like that. But uh. Okay. Look. This sounds really stupid--"

"It's not even close to stupid," he interrupted, feeling that warm affection flow through his veins again. "I didn't know you thought about me like that."

"Well I do. All the time. So that's where the 'crumble' bit came from," Tony was so adorable, so unexpectedly sweet. He'd gotten Steve's nickname from his _favorite_ dessert, and he probably shouldn't be as pleased with that as he was. "But like I said, it would have been weird to just call you that. And. Look. Cookies are... you can do a lot with them, you know? There's so many different kinds and flavors, and the possibilities are. You know. Endless. But at the end of the day, they're still cookies - familiar and good and... and something you want to come home to. I always loved when I walked into the kitchen and smelled cookies that Anna had been making. And you're... you're so many things to so many different people, but you're still _you_. You're a hero, an icon, a pain in the ass, my Winghead, a troll, a little spazzy... but beneath all that you're _you_ \- Steve Rogers. You're so good Steve, and I thought... you know. I'd like to come home to you."

For a long couple of seconds, Steve could only stare at Tony, brain short-circuiting (and wouldn't Tony be proud of him for putting it like that) and trying to catch up to what was going on. Tony... thought he was like cookies, and as sweet as his favorite dessert, and he _wanted to come home to Steve_. When he finally came back online, he realized that Tony was squirming and looking uncomfortable; he sensed that Tony was about two seconds away from fleeing. Steve wasn't about to let that happen, not when that same possessive (slightly dark and almost scary) feeling from when he'd seen Tony wearing his shield had flared to life in his chest. As soon as he felt Tony move, Steve pounced. In a flurry of movement, he pinned Tony beneath him on the couch and had captured his mouth.

This kiss was messy and hard, nothing like what they'd exchanged in the hospital. Tony's lips parted easily when Steve began to lick his way in, and he buried his fingers in Steve's hair as a let out a low groan of pleasure. God, Tony smelled so good and he was so warm... his shirt was rough under Steve's hands, giving way to silky skin when he slid his fingers underneath the hem to begin exploring his bare back. Such smooth skin, covering hard, compact muscles that Steve itched to map out with his fingers and tongue until he knew every _inch_ of Tony's body. Just then, his tongue was busy moving in an insistent rhythm against Tony's own, so his fingers would have to be enough.

Everything about Tony filled his senses, and all of it demanded he keep kissing the still-noisy genius - his whimpers, moans, and gasps were absolutely delicious. Steve wanted to live in that moment forever, with their mouths joined, Tony's fingers tugging feverishly at his hair and little noises of passion leaving the both of them... but he was abruptly pulled out of it when Tony hitched one leg around him and pulled Steve flush against his body. That should have been amazing, and it mostly was - especially the part where they lined up perfectly and he could feel Tony's growing hardness give an interested jump against his own. It was just that he also felt even harder metal dig into his chest, and he couldn't help but think of the glowing arc reactor in the middle of Iron Man's chest. It led to thoughts of the same being lodged inside _Tony_ , and with that came too many visions of Afghanistan, torture and Tony's near-death experiences.

His body was more than willing to try to work through the distraction, encouraged by the way Tony had rolled his hips up to grind their erections together. But the worry was there now, accompanied by gruesome images and terrible possibilities, and he just... he just needed to tap the breaks a little bit, because he didn't want to be so focused on being afraid for Tony that he couldn't really enjoy Tony. So he eased back from the kiss, giving Tony several lingering, apologetic pecks when he whimpered in protest. He smoothed his hands down Tony's sides so he could grip his hips, keeping them pinned to the couch while he hovered a few inches above Tony, breaking that wonderful, _perfect_ contact. Once he was pretty sure he had himself under control (though he was still panting against Tony's mouth with Tony still whining wordlessly against his) Steve carefully rolled them over so that Tony was draped over his front.

That had the potential to quickly turn things hot and heavy again, Steve knew that. In an effort to keep that from happening, he tucked Tony's head under his chin, then began to rub his hands down the length of Tony's back in long, soothing strokes. "I thought we were going to have 'thank God we're both still alive' sex," Tony eventually complained against his throat. Steve thought it was mostly in fun though, not a serious objection to the way Steve had calmed things down. "I've never had that before, not where both people almost died - heard it's super intense and I wanted some. You are a mean man, cookie crumble."

"Sorry, Tony. I just wanna have 'fuck, I love him and now he's really _mine_ and I actually get to _touch him_ sex' before we have any other kind," he answered dryly. He couldn't help but chuckle when Tony hunched his shoulders and pressed his face harder against Steve in a gesture that was clearly shy. Steve could also feel it constantly now, the edges of what he was almost completely sure was the arc reactor pressing into his skin. He felt like they needed to talk about that, and he needed to reconcile himself with the idea that Tony had been really, _really_ badly hurt in Afghanistan - more than he'd ever let himself think about before. "Besides... I wanted... I mean..." Steve paused in an effort to collect his thoughts, but he didn't have much success. "I don't know..."

He felt Tony go stiff in his arms, and Steve wanted to punch himself in the face. To do that he'd have to let Tony go though, and there was no way in hell he was doing that. "Second thoughts?" Tony asked, trying to sound playful and teasing. Steve was pretty sure he could hear fear in his voice though, along with a heartbreaking kind of resignation. "So soon, Steve? I'd have thought it'd take at least a few da--"

"D'you need me to propose or buy a promise ring or somethin', Tony?" Steve was only kind of kidding, at least about the second idea. It was definitely too soon for marriage, but if Tony needed some concrete proof of Steve's commitment to 'them', he was definitely willing to give him it. In fact, some sort of promise ring might not be a horrible idea. Might even be a great one, if only because it might settle some of Tony's insecurities. "Silver or gold?"

"I... that's..." Tony spluttered against his skin for a while, and Steve himself was fighting off a laugh. It was clear that his guy was actually pleased by the idea but didn't want to admit it. Tony seemed pretty adverse to displaying his softer, sweeter side. "... gold," he finally muttered, so low that even Steve's enhanced hearing almost didn't catch it. "You don't have to, but I like gold."

"That'll look real nice with your skin tone," Steve told him quietly, dragging his fingers down the length of Tony's back again. "I'll see if I can't find something nice. Won't be near as beautiful as you are, but I can at least find something pretty."

"Not beautiful," Tony said with a mulish pout. "You're the one who's beautiful."

"We can fight about that later," Steve told him with a shrug. "We're gonna have years and years to argue about who's more beautiful, I promise. For now... let me try'n finish what I was sayin' earlier. I just was wondering... I felt it once before and I thought maybe... that it might be some sort of pendent or something. Maybe a way for you to contact Iron Man, I don't know. But I think..." Steve was careful as he eased a hand between them, and he made sure to keep Tony's shirt between their skin as he eased it upward. He didn't stop until his hand was splayed over that metal; there was no way to mistake the way Tony had stiffened as anything but fear. Steve was quick to take his hand away, returning to rubbing Tony's back. His guy's breathing was shallow, and he had a thousand-yard stare that Steve had seen far too often in the faces of his fellow soldiers. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the crown of his guy's head. "I shouldn't-a just touched it like that. I'm so sorry doll."

Tony was silent for a while, slowly getting his breath and heart rate under control. "It's... it's... it's not okay," he finally managed, burying his face back in Steve's neck. "I don't... I trust you, but... but people only ever touch it when they want to hurt me. I can't... I don't--"

"Shhhh. You don't have to explain it to me," Steve said quietly, cursing himself for a fool. Why was he always fucking things up? "I told ya - I shouldn't have done that. I won't ever do that again, I promise. Not until you're ready - if you never are, that's fine too." Steve was working hard to keep his voice soft and soothing. What he _wanted_ to do was growl and demand the names of everyone who had ever hurt Tony. He wanted to find everyone who had taken advantage of Tony's weakness, and he wanted to rip them to shreds. Maybe he'd keep their hearts to present to Tony, the way some of the darker faeries in his ma's story had done. In that moment, Steve realized that he'd do just about anything to keep Tony safe - anything. If another portal opened, one that _needed_ to be closed with Tony on the other side... he didn't know that he could make that call anymore.

It scared him, but not enough to make him give Tony up.

"It's an arc reactor, isn't it?"

"... yeah. It's... in Afghanistan..." Tony was trembling, and he was already starting to breathe a little harder. "Things were... the shrapnel, it--"

"Tony, you don't have to--"

"I want to. You should... you should know. Bulletproof vests don't do shit against shrapnel, did you know that? I've been trying to... no one should die like that, Steve, even if I sometimes wish I had." The confession was spoken in a whisper, and Steve couldn't help but hold Tony tightly. He'd known Tony's captivity hadn't been pleasant, had known that he was hurt and treated terribly... but he hadn't known how bad it was. The thought that he could have lost Tony before meeting him, the idea that Tony _wanted_ to die... it was too much. Tony let out a little huff that probably meant Steve was holding him _too_ tight, but he couldn't force himself to let go. 'The walking dead' - that's what Yinsen called people like me. The shrapnel doesn't kill you, not right away. The smaller pieces get into your bloodstream, and they slowly make their way through your body and into your heart - that's when you die. Takes about a week, normally."

"Tony--"

"They put a magnet in me, hooked up to a car battery," Tony interrupted, saying it so casually that Steve let out a wounded sound. "Yinsen did it - steady hands. I woke up while he... Jesus fuck. I think that was one of the worst parts. Waking up to someone digging around in my chest, disoriented and in so much pain that I just wanted it to be over... I dream about that, sometimes. I'm... I'm getting better, when it comes to water, even if being drowned while a car battery sparks and threatens to electrocute you isn't a good time. Water has been... it's been hard, but I've mostly learned how to manage it. I won't be going swimming any time soon, but I can at least stick my head under the shower while the water is running. I never have nightmares about that, not anymore. When it's not the portal, it's someone cutting me open while I'm still awake, making me watch and feel every--"

Steve had thought he could do this - he'd thought he could listen to and then soothe his guy. He'd thought he'd be able to stuff his own feelings away long enough to help Tony. He hadn't expected to really think about it until he was safely alone, where his reaction wouldn't hurt Tony. But this... he just... he couldn't. He couldn't listen to his boyfriend as he started to talk so fast his words blurred together, breath coming shallow and rapid, heartbeat moving as rapidly as a hummingbird's wings. Steve couldn't handle anymore of it, not just then. He couldn't handle the images pouring into his head one after the other, not with their capture still looming so near, crystal clear in his mind.

Another time, he told himself as he caught Tony's lips in a soft, sweet kiss that stopped his words. When his emotions were a little less raw, when this thing between them wasn't quite so new... he'd hear it all. He would make hot chocolate for Tony and sit him down in front of a cartoon with the volume down low. They'd talk in soft, intimate whispers that were an echo of all the times Steve had poured his heart out to Iron Man in exchange for all the fears created by the incident in New York and the portal that had almost spelled his doom. This time they'd be in Tony's penthouse, delivering touches and kisses that would remind them that they weren't alone, that they were both alive, together, and _safe_. Later, he'd hear everything and do his best not to cry while he did.

Just then though, he needed the talk to be done. He'd been right about it being the arc reactor, and he knew not to touch it - that was enough. He'd rather press more kisses against Tony's lips, would rather run his hands up Tony's sides and then down his back, anchoring himself in the moment and Tony's presence. His fella seemed willing to let Steve distract him; he gave a hum low in his throat and began returning the gesture in an easy, almost lazy manner. They traded light kisses for a while - Steve lost track of the time, had no idea how much of it had passed. It was as things started to become a little more heated that they were both brought abruptly back to the real world.

"Sir? Captain Rogers? I do regret to interrupt you, but your food has arrived and I believe that it is in Captain Rogers' best interest to eat something if you wish to continue your... activities."

Steve was vaguely embarrassed, but Tony just huffed out a laugh against his lips before rolling off of him. He stood in one fluid motion, and Steve ached to draw him, to capture his grace on paper to keep forever. Steve himself stood slowly and with a groan - he hoped the stiffness in his muscles would fade soon. Despite them, it was easy to quietly advance on his boyfriend, and he slipped his arms around Tony's waist from behind just before they reached the elevator. "Hey," he whispered, nosing Tony's throat before tucking the man's head under his chin.

"Hi? Steve, we need to feed you, which means you need to let go of me, cookie crumble."

"Don't wanna," he whined, something warm and bright welling up in his chest when Tony started to laugh. "I will anyway, just... after I say something. I know ya don't agree, but you're amazing, Tony, and so goddamn strong. You... you went through _hell_ and came out the other side. Not a lot of people could do that, much less come out of that a superhero. And this might sound dumb, but... just... thanks. Thanks for surviving. Dunno how I'd have managed the future without you, Shellhead. You gave me a home - without that I woulda stayed an angry man out of time, probably gotten myself killed sooner rather than later. So thanks, for holdin' on even when ya didn't wanna."

"Yeah, well..." Steve was pretty sure Tony was blushing, even if he couldn't see it. "Gah. Stop with the emotions. There's pizza - pizza is better than emotions. No more _feelings_ until we're digesting, okay? Please?"

"Fine. Only 'cause I don't want you running off on me."

They didn't talk a lot while they ate, but Tony was pressed against his side and Steve's arm was thrown around his shoulders. JARVIS had put on Wall-E for them to watch, which was nice. It was a favorite of Iron Man's... Tony's, so Steve had seen it probably a dozen times, but it never got old. Tony only finished half of his pizza, but Steve was happy to devour the rest along with the two pizzas that had been ordered specifically for him. Drugs, being held captive and sustained injuries sure made a guy hungry. It wasn't until they were both done that Steve slid his hand up Tony's arm, then rested it on the nape of Tony's neck. During the rest of the movie, he carefully pressed his thumb into tense muscles and tried to gently rub out the kinks.

When he realized just how much Tony appreciated the effort, he soon found himself giving Tony a full back massage. His fella was a mess of knots and tension, and Steve vowed to himself that he would do this as often as Tony would let him to try and fix that. He didn't stop until Tony was loose and melted against him, practically purring his pleasure. Steve had shifted the both of them so that they were sitting sideways on the couch and at the end of the massage was supporting Tony, his boyfriend's back against his chest. Steve gave him a light hug, then made sure his hands were resting on Tony's stomach and didn't creep even an inch higher.

Tony was in complete control of when and if Steve got to explore his chest. He wasn't going to do anything that might break that trust.

"Hey Tony?"

"Hmmmmmmmm?"

"I dunno if you caught it earlier, since we were talking about sex when I mentioned it, but... uhm. Maybe it's too soon to say, but we've known each other for so long. I know Iron Man like I know my own name, and maybe I'm not there yet with Tony Stark, but I like that. I like that there's still more to figure out - keeps things interesting, you know? But nothing would change how I feel about you. Yeah, more feelings," he teased when he felt Tony start to squirm. "Sorry. I just really wanna say it - maybe it'll help you know that I'm in this for the long haul, and I'm not gonna cut and run if things get a little hard. I love you, Tony Stark. You've been my best friend since I woke up, and I... I figure I'm the luckiest person ever, 'cause I get to be in love with my best friend."

"... you are a giant fucking sap, Rogers," Tony said, voice hoarse with emotion, Steve gave him an encouraging squeeze, then buried his nose in Tony's hair. He was grinning too big again, but that was fine - wasn't anyone there to see it but Tony, after all. "But I love you anyway, so you really... you really are pretty lucky. Not as lucky as I am, but still pretty... pretty damn lucky."

"We're both lucky," Steve decided with a shrug. "Though I'm pretty damn sure that we're gonna fight about who's luckier and who's more beautiful for the rest of our lives."

"Rest of our lives, huh? That doesn't sound horrible."

"First though, a promise ring for you."

"And for you."

"Only if you really want to give me one," he answered, striving for casual and not landing anywhere close.

"I sort of really want to, cookie crumble."

"Well that's settled then. We are officially going steady - Tony Stark is rationed and off the market," he teased in Tony's ear. "From now on I'll go to all those awful events with you, and you're only allowed to dance with me and Pepper. You'll keep on finding me late at night when the ice is too close for me to sleep. We'll run the Avengers together and get pissy with each other when we throw ourselves into danger. It's gonna be great."

"... you know, I think that maybe you're right."

"I'll make an optimist out of you yet. But for now... I think we should take a nap. I'm comfy enough to fall asleep while I digest all that pizza. And when we wake up... maybe you could tell me about the arc reactor? I mean, what it means for it to be a part of you, how I can make it easier." Because it _had_ to be set pretty deep into his chest, and Steve was sure there was a whole mess of complications that came with that. He was just as sure that there were probably little things that he could do to make it more bearable for his fella.

"More not-so-horrible ideas. You're on a roll babe. Now shush and let me fall asleep."

"Yes Tony."

"'N don't wake me up even if you're up first, and don't do that creepy thing where you watch me while I sleep, and don't move around too much either. You can just stare at the ceiling and maybe play a very quiet word game."

"Okay Tony."

"You're such an ass."

"Mmm. Go to sleep Tony."

"Mm-hmm. Okay."

~.~.~

Two weeks later, Steve received a ring from Tony. It was clearly made out of the same material as the Iron Man suit, and according to Tony was complete with a tracker. Steve wasn't going to get lost in the ice or anywhere else ever again. 'Cookie Crumble' was engraved on the inside, and it made Steve feel warm and tingly whenever he focused on the way he could feel the words rubbing against his skin. The ring he gave Tony was gold and similarly equipped with a tracker that JARVIS had helped him with. There was no way he'd let anyone take Tony from him, not even if he had to fight the whole of the Ten Rings and Hydra single-handed to prevent it. Inside, set into the gold, were hot-rod red letters that said 'You're My Home'.

They both maybe cried a little while exchanging them. 

The rings really were meant to be a promise, not an actual proposal of marriage - the team didn't give two shits about the intent. Clint and Thor joined forces to throw the most embarrassing and strange 'Congratulations On Finally Getting Laid/Engaged' party that the world had ever seen. It was sweet, so he and Tony only spent about half and hour protesting the idea that they were actually engaged. The 'kids' were so excited about 'Iron Mom' and 'Captain Dad' tying the knot, and Steve just didn't have it in them to take a pin to their balloon.

When the media realized they were both wearing rings, it felt like the whole world went ape-shit. Weathering the storm was harder on Tony than it was on Steve; he was half-convinced Steve would leave him over it. In order to reassure him (and because being married to Tony wouldn't be a hardship at all), Steve went on national TV and confirmed that Captain America (Steve Rogers) and Iron Man (Tony Stark) absolutely engaged and the wedding would be happening at some point in the near future.

Tony was pissed for a while over that - Steve was forced to sleep on his old floor for several nights, but it was fine. When his fella finally came around, it was with wedding plans that had clearly been months in the making. The idea of 'promise rings' had clearly failed, and Steve thanked God for that everyday.

Their wedding was an event to remember. All the bad guys stayed home, probably afraid of what exactly the Avengers would do to them if they dared to ruin the special day. It was perfect, and Tony was perfect, and maybe they both cried a lot while exchanging their vows. They got to enjoy three whole days of their honeymoon before evil interrupted. Tony ignored about half his orders, Steve threw himself headlong into danger, and they yelled at each other for a good half an hour before they got to the 'thank God we're both alive' sex.

Sometimes Tony woke him with screams and pleas for his tormentors to stop; sometimes the ice washed over Steve in his sleep and he woke Tony up with desperate cuddling and the heaters blasting at 95 degrees.

They didn't fight often, but when they did fight it was fierce and lasted for days. Clint (the most invested 'kid' on the team in their relationship) was usually the one to finally get them to make peace. Nat was the one who chased them down when the fights were bad enough that they left for another city or (on one memorable occasion) another country. Bruce mostly watched and listened patiently while they vented, and Thor was always there to help his Shield Brothers navigate the rocky shoals of their marriage. They always came back to each other with apologies and soft kisses, which Steve thought was the most important part. They would even talk it out and figure out what had gone wrong before they moved onto 'I'm sorry, I love you, please forgive me' sex.

It wasn't perfect, but they fit. It was worth all the hard parts, the teasing from their 'kids', the years in the ice. Steve would go through it all again, would fight through even worse, if Tony was waiting for him at the end of his journey.

Even years later, when they were old and gray, he was still in love with his best friend. It took Tony a long time to believe he deserved that from Steve, even longer to believe he deserved to be Iron Man and an Avenger. Steve was always patient when it came to reassuring Tony, because he knew Tony was wrong.

He knew who Tony was, after all, even when Tony couldn't see it for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) if you wanna check it out, leave me prompts or whatever. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, even though it took me forever to finish. <3


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